


Exit the Fly

by LuckyLadybug



Series: Exit the Fly [1]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 1987)
Genre: Brothers, Character Study, Conflict of Interests, Delirium, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mad Scientists, Mind Control, Redemption, Season/Series 07, Sibling Rivalry, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:58:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7736860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyLadybug/pseuds/LuckyLadybug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1987 series, near the end of season 7. Baxter Stockman is finally human again following another mad revenge attack on the Turtles. Now the Turtles have him with them and their most difficult question is, what to do with him now? The situation only becomes more complicated when Barney Stockman reappears and joins with Shredder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Human Again

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are not mine and the story is! While getting back into the 1987 version of TMNT, which I know I watched as a kid even though I didn't remember it very well, I found myself fascinated with this series' version of Baxter Stockman and was rather sad that he never did get back to normal, as he so longed to. With him, there's actually a chance, as opposed to the horrifying and unfixable fates of his 2003 series' counterpart. And the 1987 Baxter is definitely more sympathetic in personality. I also decided to tinker with his canonical brother Barney. All around, this is definitely proving to be an interesting experience. It was supposed to take place between seasons 7 and 8, or be the start of a non-Red Sky season 8, but I forgot that the Technodrome gets sent back to Dimension X without anybody aboard, so I seem to have inadvertently written a new season 7 finale instead.

"This time you're not going to stop me, Turtles!"

All four Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles stood in the middle of the street, staring up at Baxter the Fly as he hovered just out of their reach with Shredder's newly rebuilt retro-mutagen ray gun. He was pointing it directly at Leonardo as he spoke.

"Like, what are you gonna do to us, Dude?!" Michelangelo exclaimed. "You don't even remember why you wanted revenge on us!"

"I . . ." Baxter paused, a look of immense confusion slipping over his insect features. "You kept me from becoming human again," he said at last. "I remember that much! The last time I had one of these guns in my hands, you took it away from me!"

"You know, if you'd just used the gun on yourself in the first place instead of trying to turn the whole world into insects, you'd be human again," Raphael said in annoyance, gripping his sai in each hand. "I'm getting sick and tired of being blamed for all the problems that everyone else causes! We wouldn't have taken the gun away from you if we hadn't needed to change all your victims back!"

Baxter gave him a blank stare. "What are you talking about? I didn't do that, did I?"

"You sure did," Raphael snapped. "You wanted to punish the whole world because of what happened to you. No one besides Shredder and Krang even had anything to do with hurting you! You just ended up hurting a lot of innocent people!" His eyes flashed.

"Hey, easy, Raphael," Leonardo said in concern, laying a hand on Raphael's shoulder. "He doesn't even remember."

"That's a poor excuse," Raphael shot back. "He still did it! He's been a bad penny from the first time we met him. I don't trust him from here to that manhole cover!"

"And none of us blame you," Leonardo said. "You're right that he did it and it was a horrible, twisted thing to do. But in his state, it's not that simple to say he did it and act like that's the only important factor. We'd have to see how he'd feel while actually being sane before really holding him accountable."

Raphael rolled his eyes. "Oh sure. As if he'll ever be in that state. I'm not sure we've ever seen him sane!"

Baxter still looked like he was trying to work out the original accusation in his mind. "I tried to take revenge on innocent people? How would that do any good?"

"It wouldn't!" Michelangelo exclaimed. "I guess you thought they weren't showing you any sympathy or something, but Dude, they didn't even know about you!"

"I should have focused on you Turtles," Baxter continued madly as though he hadn't heard Michelangelo. "You're not innocent! You're directly mixed up in my problems!"

"Would you listen to this guy?" Raphael said in frustration. "Everything goes in one ear and out the other!"

"He can't be reasoned with in his condition," Donatello spoke up.

"We have to try something," Leonardo insisted. Looking to Baxter, he said, "Why do you have to do anything about us now? If you really just want to be human again, all you have to do is use the gun on yourself. You don't have to use it on us too. What purpose will that serve?"

"Well . . ." Baxter trailed off, still deeply confused. Then, quickly distracted, he stared first at a cat walking down the street and then an airplane in the sky. The flickering lights on the plane seemed to completely captivate his attention.

"He's more fly than human by now," Donatello frowned. "Every time we see him, he's regressed worse."

"That's all the better for us," Raphael declared. "Come on, let's get that gun away from him before he uses it on us!" He looked to Leonardo, who seemed deep in thought. "Any time you're ready, O Fearless Leader."

"I don't know," Leonardo said slowly. "If we try to get it away from him while he's up there, it might accidentally go off and hit one of us anyway. It doesn't have a safety mechanism."

"So what are you saying?!" Raphael snapped. "We just let him keep us all at bay and threaten to deliberately zap us because we can't take the chance of it accidentally zapping us?"

"If we could get him to use it on himself, maybe he wouldn't even want to use it on us anymore," Leonardo replied. "His mind would finally be free of the fly's influence."

"The only thing is, after all the time he's spent cross-fused with the fly and suffering its mind becoming his own, can he ever recover from it?" Donatello wondered. "This is different from us or Master Splinter or even Bebop and Rocksteady. With Baxter, it's really like he's made up of two different beings now, only his human side is almost completely gone. I'm surprised he can even still talk or function at all like a human anymore."

"You know, that's actually kind of sad when you really stop to think about it," Michelangelo said. "I mean, Baxter was working for Shredder and all that, but he wasn't the worst guy out there. Did he really deserve this?"

"That's not really the question right now," Raphael shot back. "He's been in La-La Land while we've been debating what to do with him, but it looks like he's coming out of it and he still wants to blast us! Look out!" He leaped out of the way as a beam flew down from the gun.

The others immediately scattered as well when more beams followed suit. Frowning, Leonardo looked out from behind some empty crates in an alley as Baxter blindly fired in every direction.

"Turtles!" Baxter screamed. "Must get the Turtles!"

Leonardo's eyes narrowed. "Alright. Everyone stay under cover!" He thrust one of his katanas into the sky, striking the ray gun and knocking it off-balance. As Baxter screamed and swore in gibberish, the gun flipped around and blasted him. He stiffened in shock and pain and a red light lit up the night sky.

"It got him," Raphael said in surprise.

"So . . . is it changing him back?" Michelangelo asked, cautiously peeking up from behind two trash cans.

His question was answered as the beam faded and a terrified human with long, light-brown hair screamed as he plunged towards earth. A tiny fly buzzed off in the opposite direction.

Leonardo immediately ran out. "Without wings, he can't stay up! He likely won't survive the impact!"

"So why are we interceding, exactly?" Raphael retorted as he chased after the others. "We're not really bosom buddies."

"No, but letting him crash wouldn't be the honorable thing to do," Leonardo retorted. He slashed an awning with his remaining katana and caught it as it fell. "Help me, guys!"

Donatello and Michelangelo each grabbed an edge. Muttering to himself about Baxter not caring to do the honorable thing and still being unsure about the whole venture, Raphael nevertheless took another edge. Leonardo held onto the remaining edge and pulled tight. "Brace yourselves!"

Baxter hit the awning in the next moment. He groaned, sprawling on his stomach with his arms and legs hanging over the sides of the canvas. "Ohhh . . . what happened to me?"

"You're human again, Baxter," Leonardo said carefully.

"Human?" Baxter stared at Leonardo. "You mean I . . . wasn't . . . ?" He slumped down, going limp on the awning. Somewhere behind him, the retro-mutagen ray gun hit the ground and smashed into pieces.

"Dude, he doesn't remember?" Michelangelo blinked.

"I guess that makes sense, considering how his victims didn't remember being insects either," Donatello said. "But maybe he'll remember later."

". . . Is he even still alive?" Raphael cautiously asked.

Donatello grabbed his wrist. "Yes, but I'd say he's suffering from serious shock, There's no telling what lasting effects the cross-mutation might have had on his body . . . or his mind. I don't think the hospital will know what to do with him."

"And we would?" Raphael shot back.

"We might have a better idea than they would," Leonardo answered. "They've never dealt with mutations. Of course, we'd have to ask Master Splinter's permission before we'd take him to the Lair. . . ."

"What?! We can't take him down there!" Raphael exclaimed. "He's a weak link. The first chance he'd get, he'd tell Shredder all about it!"

"I don't think he'll trust Shredder again, if his mind is back," Leonardo said gravely. "It was Shredder and Krang who were responsible for what happened to him. Shredder was only able to continually trick him before because the fly part of his mind was causing him to forget the truth."

"Yeah? Well, maybe Shredder would threaten to turn him back into a fly again," Raphael retorted. "He'd probably help then!"

"Actually, Shredder's been in the Lair several times," Donatello pointed out. "We're just lucky that he doesn't know the way there."

"Baxter does, though," Raphael reminded him. "He kidnapped Master Splinter with his Ratcatcher! We also figured out that he hung out there spying on us when he was stuck in that other dimension. It was him we were sensing when it felt like someone was watching us! He showed up right after that."

"That's probably true," Leonardo agreed, "but since he was a fly then, it's debatable if he'll even remember it when he wakes up."

" _If_ he wakes up," Donatello said quietly.

Michelangelo looked to him with wide eyes. "No kidding? He's really that bad off?"

"I don't know," Donatello admitted. "I could examine him better at the Lair."

Raphael let out his breath in frustration. "Okay, we'll go talk to Master Splinter. But I still say letting this guy anywhere near our home is a really stupid idea."

Leonardo gave him a weak smile. "You could be right."

****

When the Turtles arrived at the Lair, Leonardo and Raphael went inside to talk with Splinter while Donatello and Michelangelo remained behind to watch over and guard Baxter. Inside, Splinter listened carefully to the tale and considered his answer for a moment in silence while Leonardo and Raphael tried to wait patiently.

"All of your concerns have merit," he said at last. "Baxter Stockman has been our enemy since his first appearance on the scene. He was weak-minded and Shredder was able to easily manipulate and threaten him in order to keep him in line. In addition, his own scientific abilities led to his ideas of highly destructive and disturbing inventions such as the one he used to abduct me.

"However, it's not as cut-and-dry as that. As I understand it, his original intention with his Mouser invention was simply to help the city with its rat problem. The Shredder tricked him by claiming that he wanted to market the Mousers. I doubt that Dr. Stockman had any idea what Shredder's true plans were. He was arrested and sentenced for the damage the Mousers caused across the city, even though he had not intended for them to cause such unwelcome destruction."

"I guess that's possible," Raphael frowned. "But that was in the past. After Shredder broke him out of the nuthouse, he sure was all into helping the guy."

"By that point, I'm not entirely certain that being incarcerated in the insane asylum hadn't taken its toll on him," Splinter said. "When he abducted me, he did not seem fully sane."

"And we've all seen how he went downhill after that," Leonardo said grimly.

"My point is that perhaps he will not be a danger to us now," Splinter said. "He does not trust the Shredder and Krang."

"And he sure won't trust us either," Raphael exclaimed.

"Perhaps." Splinter stood. "If we help him now, it may be beneficial to us in the end. And we are the most qualified for dealing with mutants. He would likely receive better help here than at the hospital, as Leonardo and Donatello surmised."

"And just what if it isn't beneficial to us, Master Splinter?" Raphael demanded as he stood as well. "He could be such a loose cannon that he'd turn against us in an instant."

"Then we will deal with that if it happens," Splinter said. "Under the circumstances, I am willing to at least give him a chance."

Leonardo suddenly looked worried. "It's true that he seemed to be heading towards insanity on some of our early encounters, especially the Eye of Sarnoth one. It wasn't just turning into a fly that did it. And that means that changing back likely won't have restored his sanity."

"Oh, so now even our leader is worried," Raphael grunted. "And he brings up yet another excellent reason to be worried."

"You have a point, Leonardo," Splinter agreed. "If his instability was caused by something such as a chemical imbalance, there is likely little we can do and he would be better off being treated by knowledgeable doctors. However, if it was instead brought on more by the cruelty of Shredder and others, we might be able to help him with kindness and patience."

Leonardo accepted that and got up. "I'll let Donatello know that he and Michelangelo can bring him in."

Raphael slumped back. "I sure hope we won't regret this," he said, half-under his breath.

He hadn't really intended for Splinter to hear, but it happened anyway. Splinter walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I hope not as well, my student. For my part, I believe it is worth the attempt to make a friend out of an enemy when there is a conceivable chance it might work. But even when that is not a viable option, it is honorable and good to assist those in need."

Raphael sighed. "I know, Master Splinter. It's not that I'm questioning your judgment. It's just that I don't trust Baxter Stockman no matter what form he's in."

Splinter nodded. "I understand, Raphael. It would be difficult to trust someone who has so consistently been a problem for us." He paused. "I just remembered that Dr. Stockman has a brother. Perhaps he should be contacted and informed of the current situation."

"I don't think Barney Stockman would care," Raphael replied. "All I got from him was that he was jealous of Baxter and hated that everyone recognized Baxter and not him. He didn't even seem to care that Baxter had turned into a crazy mutant, except for how it only made him even more notorious. Coming to think of it, I wonder how Barney even found out."

That brought a sigh. "It may be hard for you to understand when there have never been any serious problems between you and the others, but jealousy and anger directed towards a sibling does not mean there is no love there. I wouldn't be surprised if Barney has been genuinely concerned about Baxter's state."

"If you say so, Master Splinter," Raphael said doubtfully. "I know a lot of siblings have rivalry problems and all, and that some of them really care deep down, but I also know that there's really some who don't."

Splinter nodded. "That is unfortunately true. Oroku Saki most certainly cared nothing for his brother." He stepped back. "Very well. We will see how Dr. Stockman fares with us for a while. Then we will decide what to do about his brother."

Raphael moved back, then turned to look as Donatello and Michelangelo carried Baxter in, follow by Leonardo. "That's fair enough," he said, refraining from adding the half-sarcastic remark that was floating through his mind. _We'll see how **we** fare after that 'while,' too._


	2. Ruminations in Delirium

_Flies. . . ._

He hated the sound of buzzing, hated the overwhelming distractions, hated how he had become a monster. The fly's voice had always been there in the back of his mind, fighting to get to the forefront. The longer they had been fused, the more it had gotten hold of him and the less he had been able to grasp what was left of his humanity. He couldn't even remember very much about anything he had done after his transformation; it was a confused jumble in his mind with few stand-out memories. He could recall the more distant past far better.

One thing he knew very well, however, was that his intellect had seriously suffered. He had been a brilliant scientist and inventor, but after the intrusion of the fly, he hadn't even been able to think how to put much of anything together or to even remember simple things for very long. He had thought mostly about food, sugar, bright lights, and garbage. Only thoughts of revenge on those responsible for his state had really broke through the monotonous string of thoughts and topics that the fly liked, and his ideas of revenge had also become more twisted and garbled as time went on.

He remembered the alien computer that had been his only friend and companion during those dark times. Actually, when he thought about it, that computer had been his only friend period. He had mostly been a loner as a human. He hadn't liked the concept of artificial intelligence, either. But as a human-fly hybrid, he really hadn't cared. The computer had talked to him and helped him and encouraged his pursuit of revenge. But it was gone now, as far as he knew, destroyed at the end of his penultimate revenge scheme.

It shouldn't bother him, really, especially now. After all, it hadn't really been alive. And yet, it was strange how alive it had seemed. It had certainly been a better companion than his brother had ever been.

_Barney. . . ._

His brother had always hated him. As children, they had competed to be the best scientist. Barney had even tried sabotaging him at least once, but it had not worked and Baxter had still gained the most recognition. That, of course, had only made Barney detest him even more.

As adults, Barney had been willing to stoop to working for anyone who would pay him, including criminals. Baxter had wanted to make an honest living. Barney had scoffed, and in the end, he had seemed to be right. No company would buy Baxter's Mousers because of their greed and their desire to stay in business eliminating rats. After he had seen the Turtles for the first time and had spent time in the insane asylum because of talking about it, working for Shredder hadn't sounded so bad.

_Shredder. . . ._

Why had he stooped to working for that man? At first he had just longed to be free of the asylum. Maybe that had always been his reason. Maybe his mind had started to go even then. Or worse, maybe he had just given up on the decency of people and had embraced his brother's ideas in order to survive.

Barney had certainly laughed when he had learned of Baxter's servitude to the Shredder. _"You always thought you were too good to stoop so low,"_ he had cackled, _"but now you're little more than a pathetic slave."_

Baxter had yelled at him to shut up, but he had known his brother was right. And when he hadn't been able to take any more abuse, he had tried to steal the Eye of Sarnoth for himself. That hadn't gone over so well with Shredder. And it had been soon after that when Shredder had betrayed Baxter and Krang had tried to murder him and that fly had got in the way. . . .

He had longed for death so many times during his ordeal, yet part of him had still wanted to live. He easily could have killed himself, but instead he had fought and clawed for any scrap of sanity left. Unfortunately, in his crumbling state, revenge had sounded like the best sanity of all. What was it that Turtle had said, that he could have become human again much sooner if he hadn't been obsessed with turning the entire world into insects as some sort of misguided revenge against humanity?

_Turtles. . . ._

He had wanted his revenge on them more than anyone else. Why? They hadn't even had anything to do with what had happened to him.

Maybe he had felt bitter over them treating him like a criminal at their first meeting, when he hadn't tried to do anything wrong. He was certainly angry that they had decided to take his van and his equipment after his arrest. And he was furious that instead of putting any stock in his claims about giant turtles, the judge had ordered him clapped in an insane asylum and Barney hadn't tried to intercede. They had found out he was right, but still nothing had been done for him until the Shredder had come. He wondered if Barney had wanted him in there so that he would be out of the way.

Barney had been right that doing good only led to trouble and heartache, but he had been wrong that doing bad led to fame and glory. Both options had failed miserably in his hands.

Maybe he really was that pathetic. Maybe he wasn't capable of making anything work for him because he was simply incompetent. Maybe being turned into a mutant fly only really brought to light what Barney and the Shredder had already known: that he was doomed to failure. He hadn't succeeded as a human, either, not when it most counted.

But then . . . why had Barney been so jealous of him?

He had been so desperate to be human again that he had even gone to Barney for help. At first Barney had been horrified, as most people would be, but when he had misunderstood how it had happened he had laughed himself silly at Baxter's predicament. After calming down, he actually had tried to cure his twin brother's affliction. When he had failed, Baxter had hysterically accused him of doing so deliberately. After all, with Baxter out of the way, Barney was free to become the most well-known scientist in the family. Barney had denied it and had even seemed hurt, but Baxter still wasn't sure he didn't believe it had been the case. There was no love lost between them.

The buzzing he had been hearing in the back of his mind grew louder. The fly was coming back. Maybe it wanted to merge with him again so it would gain a far longer lifespan. Maybe there was nothing he could do to stop it. Maybe . . . maybe . . .

He screamed, covering his face.

****

Raphael jumped a mile. "Donatello, what are you doing to him?!" he yelped.

"I'm not doing anything!" Donatello protested. He and Michelangelo had laid Baxter on a spare bed, the same one Splinter had placed April on after she had been poisoned. Donatello had only gotten as far as taking Baxter's wrist to check his pulse rate when the supposedly unconscious man had pulled away from him and screamed, curling into a ball.

"Well, he's totally out of it," Raphael frowned. "What does he think you're going to do, murder him here and now?"

"I don't think he really knows anything that's happening right now," Donatello replied. "He's lost in the fever of his mind. And he's got a fever in reality too. I'm not sure if it was separating from the fly that brought it on or if it was his mental stress over everything that's happened."

"Whatever brought it on, how are we going to take care of it?!" Raphael exclaimed.

"I'll do what I can, but I think I need Master Splinter's help," Donatello said in concern. "He's had more experience with illnesses than we've had."

"I'll get him," Michelangelo volunteered, jumping at an excuse to remove himself from the unsettling scene. He squeezed past Leonardo and hurried out of the room.

Baxter uncurled himself and fell limp on the bed. "No," he moaned, staring blankly at the ceiling. "It's coming. Keep it away from me!" Again he tried to cover his face with his hands.

"There's nothing here," Donatello told him. "It's just us Turtles and Master Splinter."

"If he's so out of it, he probably can't hear you," Raphael pointed out.

"I know, but as long as he's here, we've got to try to get through to him," Donatello answered.

"I'm not going to merge with that fly again!" Baxter screamed. "It's just using me so it won't die in a few weeks. Everyone's always using me!" He gave Donatello a hateful look. "You Turtles used me. The Shredder used me. Well, I'm not going to take it any more!"

Raphael clenched his teeth. "Okay, so maybe we used you the first time we met you, but all the other times we were forced to fight you for one reason or another. You chose to work for Shredder after he busted you out of the loony bin. And after the fly merged with you, you were completely obsessed with the idea of revenge! We didn't have any choice but to fight you."

"So much for the argument of him not being able to hear you," Donatello remarked.

"This guy just seriously steams me," Raphael shot back. "He blames everybody else for his problems and doesn't take any responsibility himself!"

"Most of the times he's said things like that, he clearly hasn't been in his right mind," Leonardo pointed out. "I'd like to hear what he has to say if he comes through this."

"Leonardo is right," Splinter said as he appeared in the doorway with Michelangelo. "I would also like to hear what Dr. Stockman will say for himself. But for now, we must try to be patient with him while he tries to recover. No matter what he says, reacting to it with anger will only be detrimental---to us, if not to him as well."

"You guys can play doctor all you like," Raphael retorted, slipping past Michelangelo. "But it'll probably do everyone the most good if I'm not around while you're trying."

"Raphael . . ." Michelangelo looked at the red-masked Turtle in concern. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Raphael paused in the doorway. "Yeah, I think so," he said. "I just need some time alone right now."

"Then go, my pupil," Splinter encouraged. "That might be best."

Michelangelo's shoulders slumped as Raphael hurried off. "Man, I hate it when he gets like that," he frowned. "It's much more fun when he's being the wiseguy."

Donatello sighed. "It's hard to blame him for being angry. I'm not very happy with Baxter myself. But then I think about things like how we treated him when we first met him and I wonder if we were completely fair back then."

"We couldn't know that he just thought Shredder was marketing his product and he didn't know Shredder's real plans," Leonardo pointed out. "After everything we'd been through that night, it was understandable that we'd be suspicious."

"And then he got plunked in the loony bin because he was talking about us," Michelangelo remarked. "And we took his van and all his other stuff."

"Well, no one else could use it while he was away," Donatello defended. "But I wonder why he was kept in the asylum after they found out the rumors about giant turtles were real."

"Perhaps he showed signs of actually being insane aside from his tales," Splinter said. "People are not kept in asylums if there is not a reason."

"I guess not," Donatello frowned. "But I could picture some humans doing that just because they could. Maybe even his brother had something to do with it."

Baxter was lying on his back now, staring at the ceiling and moaning. If he heard any of the current conversation, he gave no indication of it.

Splinter sighed. "That is possible, although I would hate to believe it. Let us not worry about it now. I need a bowl of cool water and a cloth. We should watch over Dr. Stockman in shifts. I will take the first one."

"I'll get the items, Master Splinter," Leonardo said. He hurried out of the room and into the kitchen.

He was somewhat surprised when he entered and found Raphael sitting at the table. One arm was stretched across it as he gripped a sai. He was glaring into space and seemed not to notice Leonardo's entrance.

"Hey, Raphael," Leonardo greeted slowly. He opened the cupboard, taking down a large mixing bowl.

"Hey." Raphael leaned back and looked over at him. "So how is the _good_ doctor doing?"

Leonardo smiled a bit to hear the heavy sarcasm in Raphael's tone. It was a hint of him calming down, or at least, Leonardo hoped so. "Not so good," he said, turning on the water at the sink to fill the bowl. "Master Splinter decided to take the first shift watching him."

"Poor Master Splinter." Raphael got up, twirled his sai, and stuck it in his belt.

"Do you want to talk, Raphael?" Leonardo asked. Keeping the bowl on the counter, he opened a drawer for a dishtowel.

"Nah." Raphael sighed. "I think everything I wanted to say has been said. I'll be fine, Leonardo. I'm not happy about Baxter being here, but I'll deal with it." He paused. "But I'm also going to stay on guard. There's no telling what that guy might do."

"Staying on guard is a good idea," Leonardo said. "For his sake as well as ours." He draped the towel over his shoulder and lifted the bowl in his arms.

A furious roar from Baxter sent both Leonardo and Raphael racing back to see what was happening. They could only stare as the crazed scientist rose half-off the bed and struggled with Splinter, their hands braced against each other's.

"So now I'm going to be haunted by the rats my Mousers retrieved?!" Baxter screamed. "That was the one honest invention I came up with! I didn't know what the Shredder was going to do with them! I didn't!"

Splinter clenched his teeth. "Things are not as they seem, Dr. Stockman. You must rest now." Stronger than the delirious man, Splinter overpowered him at last and pushed him down into the bed again. Baxter immediately tried to get up, but Donatello hurried over to hold him down.

Leonardo set the bowl down on the table. "Master Splinter . . . !"

Splinter sighed. "This will be trying for all of us."

"Maybe Raphael was right," Leonardo said regretfully. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought him here."

"It was the wisest choice," Splinter assured him. "If he were elsewhere in his delirium, he might have even revealed the location of our home."

"I didn't even think of that," Leonardo exclaimed in chagrin.

"He could do that whether he's delirious or not," Raphael objected. "I still don't trust that he'll keep quiet out of the goodness of his heart."

"Perhaps not," Splinter agreed. "We will soon find out."

They all watched as Baxter fought against Donatello and once more cursed him in unintelligible words.

"I guess the outside world would just toss him in the loony bin again," Raphael said. "But maybe that's still where he belongs. What the heck is he even saying?"

"Maybe he's talking fly-talk," Michelangelo suggested. "After all, he was able to command armies of them. He must know their language."

"That makes me wonder if the fly is running around coming up with equations and ideas for inventions," Raphael muttered. "Their minds were fused, so the fly probably picked up something from him. It might be the smartest fly around by now."

"Sci-fly!" Michelangelo chirped.

Raphael snarked.

A warning glare from Splinter silenced them both. "This isn't a matter of amusement."

"No, it isn't," Raphael sighed. "Sorry, Sensei."

Splinter sighed to himself.

Crossing to the bowl, he carefully dampened the towel and placed it on Baxter's forehead. The coldness finally seemed to soothe him for the time being. Instead of continuing to struggle against Donatello, he slowly let go and slumped back into the bed with a weak groan. Relieved, Donatello sighed and released him.

"Why is he like this anyway?" Michelangelo wondered. "We didn't have problems like this with April when she was merged with a cat."

"But April was only cross-fused for a few hours," Donatello pointed out. "Baxter was merged with that fly for a whole lot longer."

"And having another entity pulled apart from you . . ." Leonardo shuddered. "I can't imagine how that would hurt."

Splinter gave a grave nod. "And since they were one for so many months, suddenly being separated has left his mind in a garbled state of confusion."

He paused as Baxter started to mumble again. "I was born in a garbage dump. . . . No, that isn't right. . . . I was born in a hospital, with my brother. . . ."

"Garbage dump?!" Michelangelo echoed in disbelief.

Splinter frowned. "Most likely, he is fighting to sort out what parts of his memories actually belong to himself and not the fly."

"Wow. That sounds awful," Michelangelo proclaimed. "So he remembers everything the fly remembers from before they came in contact?"

"That would be my guess," Splinter said. "And falling from a long distance, as he immediately did when he was himself again, must have been terrifying and only compounded the shock. I am certain this illness is more emotional and mental than physical."

"Is there a chance it could be physical too?" Donatello wondered.

"You mean like maybe being cross-fused with something gross like a fly leaves you feeling really rotten when you're free again?" Michelangelo blinked.

"That is possible," Splinter realized. "But if that is true, then we likely do not have what is necessary to treat him here."

Michelangelo shifted. "So, like, what do we do?" he nervously asked.

"Let us wait and see if his condition improves," Splinter replied. "If it does not within a reasonable amount of time, then we must consider taking him to a hospital."

"And what if they don't know how to treat someone for Extended Fly Cross-Fusion either?" Raphael frowned.

"Then . . . I do not know," Splinter said with a shake of his head. "There might not be anything that can be done for him at all."


	3. From Night to Day

The next hours were very long and taxing, just as Splinter had known they would be. Whatever had brought on Baxter's delirium and fever, it did not seem about to go away without a fight. While at times he slept or passed into unconsciousness, the majority of the time seemed to be spent with moans, groans, and often nonsensical screams. Occasionally he became violent.

Leonardo took his turn right after Splinter. Baxter had fallen asleep deeply into Splinter's shift and Leonardo was hoping he would just stay that way. The antics they had all witnessed during Splinter's shift had unsettled them and Leonardo wasn't sure he was up to dealing with anything similar. He settled down in the chair, trying to be as quiet as possible.

For a while nothing happened. Then Baxter stirred, mumbling something about a mad dash for sugar. Leonardo frowned, glancing over at him. He stayed silent, not wanting to wake Baxter if he was still really asleep.

"No, wait. . . . I didn't want the sugar." Baxter moaned, turning onto his other side. "I wanted funding for my Mousers. Go away. Just go away." He grabbed the pillow and put it over his head.

Leonardo tensed, wondering if he needed to intervene and make sure Baxter didn't try to accidentally suffocate himself in his state. But after a moment Baxter flung the pillow off again and let it hit his leg. "Go away, I said!" He rose off the bed, his eyes wild and filled with madness. He wasn't looking at Leonardo at all, but at some unknown thing that wasn't really there. Grabbing the pillow, he hefted it at thin air.

Leonardo caught it. "It's gone, Baxter," he said. "Just get back into bed and everything will be alright."

Baxter knelt on the bed, seething, the rage crashing through his eyes. But then it was gone just as quickly, replaced by unbridled terror. "It's not gone!" he shouted. "It will never be gone! It hasn't left me alone in all this time; why would it do so now?!"

Leonardo set the pillow back on the bed and attempted to gently take hold of Baxter's trembling shoulders. "Because this time you were able to set it and yourself free," he said calmly, patiently.

"I was?" Baxter stared blankly at Leonardo, still not recognizing him.

"That's right." Leonardo eased him down into the bed. "You can go back to sleep in peace."

"Why are you helping me?" The wariness was strong in Baxter's voice.

Now Leonardo wasn't sure if he had been recognized or not. "Because it's the right thing to do," he answered.

"No one does anything for that reason anymore," Baxter scoffed.

"Some do," Leonardo insisted.

If Baxter wanted to keep up the argument, he said nothing. He just sighed, sinking deeper into the mattress. "I used to," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. Then his eyes slipped closed and he either slipped back to sleep or passed out.

Leonardo sighed, propping up an elbow on the nightstand nearby.

Michelangelo had opted to go next. Seeing that things had been relatively calm with Leonardo, he hoped that his shift would go similarly without incident.

"Hi, Baxter," he greeted as Leonardo left. "Are you still doing okay? I know Leonardo and Master Splinter took good care of you. Now it's my turn to just hang with you for a while."

Amused, Leonardo shook his head as he departed.

As before, Baxter was quiet at first. He awoke almost without Michelangelo realizing. He stayed quiet, gazing at the light in the room. "It's so bright," he slurred after several minutes.

Michelangelo jumped a mile. "Sorry it's not the kind you can dim," he said.

"Bright lights are fascinating." Baxter reached out for it.

"Okay, now you're kind of creeping me out, Dude," Michelangelo said uneasily. "It's just a light. They're cool and all, but I mean, they're nothing unusual these days." He peered at Baxter. "You know you're not a fly anymore, right? You don't have to do all the weird stuff they do."

Baxter turned to look at him. "And what do you know of it, Barney?" he snapped. "Are you patronizing me? Do you think I'm quite mad?!"

"What? No!" Michelangelo stood. "But I'm not Barney! I'm your friendly neighborhood pizza-loving Turtle! Don't you recognize me?"

Baxter's lip curled. "You're doing this to me deliberately, aren't you, Barney? You're trying to make me look foolish! You're trying to sabotage me, just like you did in high school!" Without warning he sprang off the bed, tackling Michelangelo to the floor.

"Hey! Whoa! Get a grip, Dude!" Michelangelo yelped as they struggled. "Come on, I don't really look like your brother, do I?!"

"SILENCE!" Baxter shrieked.

A shadow fell across the doorway. "Michelangelo, what's going on?!" Donatello exclaimed in shock.

"Oh . . . nothing!" Michelangelo called back. Mortified, and not wanting it to look like he couldn't handle the situation, he fought harder to gain the upper hand. At last he managed to snatch Baxter's wrists and force him back against the side of the bed. "Everything's under control! Totally no problems at all!"

"Right," Donatello frowned. "Michelangelo, don't hurt him!"

"Hurt him?" Michelangelo cried in disbelief. Gritting his teeth, he hauled Baxter back onto the bed but did not let go of his wrists. "He's majorly nutzoid! He thinks I'm his brother!"

Donatello raised an eyebrow. "It must be your orange mask."

"Haha. Very funny." Michelangelo stiffened, renewing his guard as Baxter tried to kick him backwards. "Oh, you are not gonna do that." He moved away but still gripped Baxter's wrists. "Hey, if I let you go, will you, like, just leave me alone?"

Donatello facepalmed. "Michelangelo, he's not in any condition to make a rational decision!"

"Tell me about it!" Michelangelo groaned as Baxter continued to fight him. "You know, I think I'd rather fight Foot Soldiers any day."

"Sure," Donatello quipped, "because you don't need to worry about holding back with them."

Donatello was definitely on guard when he took his shift. "Alright, Baxter," he said, trying to be friendly as he settled into the chair near the bed. "Now, no one's going to hurt you, there are no flies or unfriendly brothers in here, and I'm just going to sit here in this chair for a while. Okay?"

Baxter gave him a blank look. "If you want to."

Thinking he seemed more lucid than before, Donatello cautiously asked, "Are you feeling any better?"

"I suppose," Baxter replied.

They stayed like that for a moment in silence before Donatello decided to attempt a real conversation. "Were you always into science?"

"Yes," Baxter instantly replied. "I was the first scientist in the Stockman family. Barney was just trying to copy me when he got interested."

"Maybe he looked up to you," Donatello suggested.

Baxter scoffed. "He just didn't want me to have anything that he didn't have. That included scientific recognition. Why do you think he always becomes so angry when he's mistaken for me? He hates that I am recognized and he is not. Even though I ultimately failed and ended up mutated into a horrible creature, I was still better known than he. He couldn't take that."

"He didn't succeed so well himself," Donatello remarked. "Working for a local gangster and ending up in prison."

That brought a laugh. "It's funny, actually. Barney was always the one willing to do anything for recognition, including turning to crime. I wanted to make an honest living as a valuable scientist." He giggled. "Instead, while Barney just worked for a lowly gangster, I worked for an interdimensional head of evil and a talking alien brain. Even in crime I managed to top his dubious achievements."

Donatello sighed. "That's not very funny."

"No, it isn't." Baxter had sobered again now.

Donatello fell silent, debating what he could say next. "Do you regret it?"

A weak shrug. "I regret being weak," Baxter spat. "I wouldn't have been working for Shredder if I'd seen another way out. I suppose I was just grateful that he finally got me out of the asylum when no one else would. I felt I owed him for that. And maybe I wasn't quite in my right mind by then. I don't know. But I looked up to him and tried to be kind to him in spite of all his abuse, because he had shown me the one kindness of releasing me. And of course that wasn't even for my sake, but his."

"You didn't take the abuse for very long, even if you were grateful," Donatello pointed out. "You stood up for yourself and wanted out, which makes you stronger than Bebop and Rocksteady." He gave a weak half-smile. "Of course, your method for getting out wasn't so great."

"Oh. . . ." Baxter passed a hand over his face. "That dratted Eye of Sarnoth. . . ."

"And trying to squish all of us with your clay monster," Donatello added.

"And yet you're sitting here talking to me like everything is normal and we're old friends," Baxter said in disbelief.

"I kind of wonder myself what I'm doing here," Donatello admitted. "I don't trust you or like you. But you needed help."

"It's so ironic." Baxter sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "I almost wonder if, under other circumstances, we might have met as scientific comrades and become friends."

". . . Yeah," Donatello mused in surprise. "I hadn't really thought about it before, but now I kind of wonder too." It was interesting and also kind of sad, thinking that Baxter could have been an ally like April. Perhaps if he had been found by the Turtles instead of Shredder after being kicked out of the pest control company, he would have happily devoted his life to inventing things for good. But it was useless to ponder on the what could have beens.

Raphael was extremely leery when he showed up for his shift. "So how's he doing?" he whispered to Donatello. "Michelangelo told me what happened with him."

"Oddly enough, with me he seemed much more aware of himself and his surroundings," Donatello replied. "We actually had a nice conversation."

"Yeah? I find that hard to believe." Raphael looked past Donatello to where Baxter seemed to be asleep again.

"It's not so unusual, really," Donatello said. "People suffering from delirium and fever can go back and forth between awareness and loss of reality."

"Well, I just hope he'll stay out of any goofy realities while I'm here," Raphael declared. "If he doesn't, we'll both regret it."

"Just don't hurt him if you can at all help it," Donatello cautioned.

"I know, I know." Raphael plopped down in the chair and folded his arms.

To Raphael's surprise and everyone's relief, there were no big scenes on Raphael's watch. This time, Baxter stayed asleep.

****

Donatello was right about people slipping back and forth between their various states. Baxter was not out of the woods yet, and over the course of the oncoming day, there were more physical struggles against his outbursts. One in particular resulted in Donatello being slammed painfully into the wall before he managed to subdue Baxter again. By evening, everyone was exhausted, no one had really slept much, and some of them were starting to doze in strange locations.

"Ohhh . . . mondo insomnia, Dudes," Michelangelo groaned, slumping over the table.

Raphael was already half-asleep on the other side of it and started at the movement. "Huh? What?" Seeing it was just Michelangelo, he immediately slipped back into inertia.

"Well, the good news is, I think his fever's breaking," Donatello announced.

"Does that mean we can all get some real shut-eye?" Michelangelo asked as he fought and failed to keep his eyes open.

"All but one of us," Donatello said. "Someone still needs to watch him."

"I will do it now," Splinter said as he stepped forward. "You must all rest, my students."

"But Master Splinter, you need to sleep too," Leonardo protested.

"I have trained my body to be capable of going without sleep, if the situation arises," Splinter said. "That training is something all of you have yet to master."

"That's good enough for me," Raphael mumbled.

The Turtles all practically sleep-walked out the door and to their respective rooms. Splinter watched them in gentle amusement before settling down in the chair by the bed. "Now, Dr. Stockman, let us see what will happen when you return to us at last."

****

It was some time yet before that happened. By the time Baxter groaned and stirred towards the next morning, Splinter had been about to fall asleep himself. He snapped awake at the activity. "Good morning," he greeted.

Baxter barely glanced his way. "I . . . I dreamed about being human again," he said wistfully, passing a hand over his eyes. That action seemed to snap him into the full reality of his situation and he jumped a mile, staring at a hand that was not abnormal in color.

"It isn't a dream," Splinter said. "You are human again." He held up a mirror, which Baxter took and stared into with wide eyes.

"Wait." He turned, looking to Splinter. "What am I doing here?"

"The Turtles brought you last night. We decided that you would have a better chance of recovery here, among those who would understand your situation."

Frowning, Baxter groped for his glasses on the table and slowly put them on. "You wouldn't have done this for an enemy without a reason. What is it you want from me?" he demanded.

"Only for you to get well and to not be a danger to us or to the city." Splinter watched him steadily. "Not everyone helps others only for dishonorable reasons."

"But after everything I did to you . . ." Baxter still looked suspicious. "I can really leave here, no strings attached?"

"If you feel you are well enough." Splinter laid the mirror aside. "We could contact your brother if you would like to stay with him a while."

"Barney?!" Baxter was in disbelief again. "He's just as happy that I haven't been around. I'm sure he's achieved what he wanted by now: the title of Best Scientist in the Stockman Family."

"He has only recently finished a sentence in prison for assisting a local gangster in one of his schemes," Splinter said. "He wasn't as successful as he hoped to be."

Baxter frowned. "I still don't want to see him."

"Very well. You may either stay here for the time being or go somewhere else that you would prefer." Splinter started to get up. "Is there anything I may get for you?"

Baxter slowly sank back into the bed. "No . . . thank you." But suddenly he stiffened in fear. "Does Shredder know I'm human again?!"

"No," Splinter assured him. "He is aware that you stole his retro-mutagen ray gun, but he was unable to find you before you used it. He will not hear the news from any of us." He headed for the doorway. "I will leave you to your meditation."

Baxter stared after him but didn't try to stop him. What was he doing here? Had they truly brought him here out of kindness, or had they just wanted the assurance that they knew where their enemy was? Either way, it certainly wasn't like how Shredder had used him over and over again while abusing him all along the way.

Part of him wondered if it was actually for real. Maybe he was so sick that he was still hallucinating. Still, would he ever actually hallucinate being taken in by those he had thought were his sworn enemies? That didn't seem likely. On the other hand, hallucinations could consist of any outlandish thing that made no sense in the real world. For the time being, perhaps he should not dismiss the possibility that it was a hallucination. Then he might not be as devastated to find that it wasn't real and he was still a fly.

Whether it was real or not, there was a time when he would have been thrilled and excited to contact Shredder and let him know that he was actually in the Turtles' Lair. Now, however, he felt no such compunction. He hated Shredder, and Krang too. Shredder had betrayed and lied to him repeatedly and Krang had tried to murder him.

There was also a time when he would have sought revenge on both of them. Just yesterday, as a matter of fact. But now he wanted to steer clear of them as much as possible. He wished he had never heard of Shredder to begin with.

What would his life be like now if he hadn't? Well, he certainly wouldn't be getting used to being a human again instead of a mutant fly. He most likely wouldn't have ever turned to crime. And he hopefully wouldn't have been considered insane and thrown in an asylum.

He wouldn't have heard of the Turtles or Splinter either, and for better or worse, hallucination or fact, they had taken him in now. He would stay while he recovered his strength and reoriented himself, but then he intended to leave. He didn't want to be part of this fight from this side any more than he wanted to be on Shredder's side. Instead he wanted to at least try to have a normal life.

"Like, hi."

He nearly jumped a mile. When he turned to look, Michelangelo was standing in the doorway, seeming friendly enough.

"Hello," he said warily.

"Master Splinter says you're okay now. Are you?" Michelangelo sauntered into the room, his eyes filled with curiosity.

"I'm human. That certainly means I'm far more 'okay' than I was before," Baxter replied.

"Yeah. No more flies butting into your thoughts, huh? That would've been a major bummer."

"Why are you being so nice?" Baxter sat up again. "Surely you can't trust me or want me here."

Michelangelo shrugged. "Hey, if you're not gonna try to kill us or de-mutate us or tell Shredder about the Lair, I'm good with it."

"And all of you feel the same way?" Baxter had a hard time believing that.

"Well . . ." Michelangelo shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Raphael wasn't too happy about bringing you here. But he went along with it when we felt like it was the best thing."

"Why would you think it was the best thing?" Baxter retorted. "What happened to me was of no consequence to you."

"It kind of was," Michelangelo answered. "I mean, it all had to do with what our consciences felt good about. We could've just let you go splat all over the street when you changed back into a human and started to fall out of the sky, but it didn't seem like the honorable thing to do, you know? And then when we took the trouble to rescue you, we figured we needed to go all the way with it and make sure you were gonna be okay."

Baxter frowned. "But I probably wouldn't have done the same for you, even if I was fully human and not part-fly. I tried to harm you multiple times when I was working for Shredder, and also when I'd had enough of his abuse and I took the Eye of Sarnoth."

"That wouldn't change how we'd handle you being hurt and all, Dude," Michelangelo shrugged. "I mean, that'd make us as bad as our enemies, right?"

". . . I suppose so," Baxter said slowly.

"Leonardo and Master Splinter figure you were actually a nice guy a long time ago, when Shredder wanted your Mousers and we first met you. Maybe we could've treated you better then and it would've made a difference. I don't know. There's nothing we can do about the past, but maybe we can do something about the future. You think?"

Baxter stared at him. This was not the type of discussion he had ever thought he would be having with someone who had most definitely been his enemy and whom he had repeatedly ill-treated in the past. Now it was hard to decide whether this was strange enough for a hallucination or too strange to be anything but the truth.

He had used to think he was indeed a nice person, but it hadn't taken him long to crumble under the strain of being in the insane asylum and then the pressure of Shredder's constant verbal and occasional physical abuse. He had become hateful and vengeful before his transformation, and after that, his desire for revenge had increased to the point of not even making sense anymore. These Turtles and their instructor were all far stronger beings than he could ever hope to be. Whatever part of him was sane was stunned, even humbled, by their example.

"It's possible," he said at last.

"Gnarly," Michelangelo grinned. "Are you hungry? I was going to send out for pizza."

Somehow something that hefty didn't sound appealing right then. "I am hungry," Baxter said slowly, "but I would rather have something more simple."

"Yeah, I guess Master Splinter would say that was better when you've been sick and all." Michelangelo headed for the door. "I'm sure we can find something. Maybe fruit?"

Baxter stiffened. Fruit made him think of his deep cravings for sweet things during his transformation. He didn't feel ready to face that again yet. "Not fruit," he insisted. "Not now."

"Well, I'm sure we've got something you'd like," Michelangelo said cheerfully. "If you're up to it, you can come out to the kitchen and we'll see what we've got."

"Thank you," Baxter said slowly. "Maybe I will."


	4. The Other Shoe

It took Baxter a few moments to get the courage to get up and slowly start out of the room. He was still not sure whether this was real or only in his mind, but the fact that he seemed to be somewhat dizzy upon standing made him start to think more strongly that maybe somehow, unbelievably, it actually was real.

He reached out, taking hold of the table to steady himself. Then, on a whim, he looked down at his hand. It was no longer grotesquely colored, just as he had discovered earlier. Nor did he have a second pair of arms that were far more fly-like in nature or feet that resembled the Turtles'.

"I'm me again," he whispered in awe. "I'm really and truly me!" He picked up the mirror, which Splinter had left on the table. "Welcome back, Baxter. You don't know how much I've missed you!"

Overwhelmed with growing delight, he laid the mirror down again and moved more quickly out of the room.

The Turtles and Splinter had gathered in the kitchen while Michelangelo and Splinter were each preparing different dishes. The others were sitting at the table and watching, but Leonardo stood when he saw Baxter wander into the doorway. "Hi, Baxter," he greeted. "Sit down."

Baxter did so. "You're being so nice to me," he said slowly, feeling wary again. "I can hardly believe it."

Donatello smiled a bit. "Well, we hoped you might be feeling a lot less hostile when you were back to yourself. We wanted to give you that chance."

"I'm making a new kind of pizza!" Michelangelo cheerfully announced. "It's a special breakfast variety with Cornflakes and Froot Loops!"

Baxter stared at him. "I thought you were going to order something more conventional."

"Oh, we'll have pepperoni and and Hawaiian for sure, Dude," Michelangelo replied. "But I always like to add a personal touch."

Splinter sighed and shook his head. "I am preparing a more conventional soup," he said. "Perhaps you would like some of that, Dr. Stockman?"

"Yes, that sounds good," Baxter said, relieved that something more plausible had been mentioned. He hadn't really wanted to quiz about what was available.

Raphael had remained silent, sitting at the table with folded arms. When Baxter looked to him, silently and slightly questioning, Raphael looked torn on what to say but was definitely very displeased. ". . . Hey, I'm glad you're not still screaming at the top of your lungs about flies or Mousers or Krang," he said at last. "That probably scared everyone away in a ten-mile radius."

Leonardo slapped his forehead.

Baxter cringed. "I really did that?"

"You were delirious," Donatello explained.

"Oh." Baxter fell silent. He certainly did not blame Raphael for being unhappy that he was there. Really, it seemed unreal to him that any of them were welcoming at all. He had been hurt too much in life to fully believe in this scenario now; he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. But while he waited, he would just try to stay away from Raphael for as long as he was there and that would probably be the best all around.

"What Raphael means to say is that he is glad you are recovering," Splinter said with a warning look at Raphael.

"Yeah, that's what I meant," Raphael agreed.

Baxter wasn't as sure, but he didn't push it.

****

It was later that day when April dropped by to visit, completely unannounced as she often did. "Hi, guys!" she chirped, seeing all of them gathered around the television set. "What's . . ." Suddenly catching sight of Baxter on the couch, her mouth dropped open. "Dr. Stockman?!"

He flushed, looking trapped and unsure what to make of the unexpected company. "Hello, Miss O'Neil. . . ."

"What's going on here?!" April exclaimed.

"Uh, you want the short version or the long version?" Michelangelo asked.

"Any version!" April spread her arms wide. "How is Baxter Stockman human again and why is he in the Lair?!"

"Well, he sort of kind of blasted himself with Shredder's new retro-mutagen ray gun after he tried to blast all of us with it," Michelangelo said. "Then Leonardo said we couldn't let him pancake on the ground when he didn't have wings and was falling, so we caught him on an awning and brought him back here to chill out."

"That's the short version, alright," April sighed.

"Dr. Stockman was very ill and delirious when the Turtles brought him back," Splinter said as he entered the room. "He is recovering now, as you can see."

Baxter nodded, eyeing April with wariness.

Splinter took in the scene before coming to a decision. "Come with me, April," he implored. "I want to talk with you for a moment."

April went agreeably, waiting until they were alone before blurting what was on her mind. "Splinter, do you really think it's a good idea for Baxter Stockman to be here?" she hissed. "He was an enemy before he turned into a giant mutant fly."

"I am aware of that," Splinter said calmly. "Raphael has his reservations as well. But overall we felt that he should stay with us at least until he properly regained his senses. He actually was not our enemy the first time the Turtles met him, but they did not know and they treated him as such. We did not see him again until after he had been incarcerated in the insane asylum for some time. The experience seemed to have taken a toll on his sanity."

"Okay," April said slowly. "But what if Shredder finds out and takes him? He knows all about the Lair now."

"What is the news of Shredder?" Splinter queried instead of answering. "Has he learned of the destruction of his retro-mutagen ray gun?"

"Not that I know of," April frowned. "At least, he hasn't done anything about it. Did he know Dr. Stockman took it?"

"Yes," Splinter nodded. "But he was unable to catch up with him before he had his confrontation with the Turtles on the street."

"I'll make sure to let you know if I hear about any new Shredder plots," April promised.

"Thank you, April." Splinter looked pleased. "I also have a favor to ask of you. You too know what it is like to become a human-creature hybrid which slowly loses its humanity over a period of time. In that way, you can relate at least somewhat to Dr. Stockman's situation. He is understandably still shaken by his traumatic experience. Perhaps speaking with someone who understands his suffering will help him."

"You want me to talk to him?" April said in amazement. "I was only a mutant for several hours. That's nothing compared to how long he had to deal with losing himself bit by bit."

"I realize that, but you can still understand his situation better than I or the Turtles can," Splinter said. "We have never had our sanity threatened as you and Dr. Stockman have."

"Well, if you really think I can help," April said doubtfully. "I guess it would be a good exclusive: April O'Neil Interviews Former Human Fly."

"Yes, only it would likely not be a good idea for you to put this interview on the air," Splinter cautioned. "Dr. Stockman may not want it broadcast, and it might be dangerous for him if Shredder were to see it."

"Right," April nodded. "I'll just consider it an interview in my mind. But what are you going to do with him? Surely he's not going to live here!"

"No, I highly doubt he would want that," Splinter agreed. "He will likely leave before long. He has no desire to rejoin Shredder, and it is unlikely that Shredder would want him back, so we are probably safe on that end."

"But will he go back to being honest?" April worried. "I've spoken to ex-convicts and a lot of them say how hard it is to be good guys again after being criminals."

"That is a question only he can answer," Splinter said.

Baxter suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Those Turtles want to watch a horror movie marathon," he complained. "I don't want to see any of it."

"I can't blame you there," April said lightly. She shot Splinter a look, but he merely smiled and nodded as he started to step back. Sobering, April continued, "I've never really liked horror movies, but I liked them a lot less after I spent time as a mutant cat."

Baxter regarded her in surprise. "How did that happen?"

"Oh . . . I got stuck in some kind of teleportation machine with a cat," April said. "It didn't take long and I wasn't just physically turning into a cat, but starting to think and act like one."

"It's a horrible experience, isn't it?" Baxter said quietly. Even though his voice was low, it was clearly haunted. "Feeling your humanity slipping away more and more each day and not being able to stop it. . . . Eventually you start losing your memories too and you don't even know why you want to do certain things or what people did to you; you just know that for some reason, you want revenge. That's your only driving human force left. Everything else has descended to an almost mindless, animalistic level."

"And revenge is a sad remnant of your humanity," April said softly. "I didn't try to take revenge on my own, but I did after Shredder put a mind-control collar on me."

A spark of hatred flashed through Baxter's eyes. "He always seems to be at the root of our problems."

"He usually is," April agreed. "But sometimes, we help move things in that direction ourselves. I shouldn't have jumped into that machine without knowing what it was."

"And I shouldn't have worked for Shredder," Baxter sighed. "I know. I knew it long ago, but it was easier to blame other people for my problems rather than to take some of the responsibility myself. And I felt that whatever my wrongdoings were, it didn't make it right for Shredder and Krang to have treated me as they did. I still feel that way."

"I'll agree with that," April said. "But after Shredder tricked you about the Mousers, why did you even agree to work for him later at all? Surely you knew he was bad news by then."

Baxter looked tired. "I thought I was going out of my mind being locked in that asylum. My brother wouldn't lift a finger to help me get out. When Shredder broke in and offered me an out if I would help him, I jumped at the chance. I never would have had the accident in the disintegration machine if I hadn't."

"Wait, a disintegration machine?!" April said in horror.

"Yes. Krang was trying to kill me. That probably would have been better than what actually happened." Baxter folded his arms.

"I don't know that I could say that," April said. "As horrible as it was, you were still alive. And now you have a chance to start fresh."

"I suppose." Baxter didn't sound hopeful. "I wasn't given the chance before and it's not likely I will be now. Everyone is always fueled by greed. Greed and money! My Mousers would have been a great help all over the city, if they were programmed correctly. Instead, they were rejected because they were too good. The company I talked to didn't want all the rats gone because then they would have been out of business."

"That's terrible," April frowned. "But you can't give up. Maybe the world isn't ready for Mousers, since they can so easily be programmed to do things they really shouldn't be doing. You must have other ideas."

"I do, if Barney hasn't stolen them all," Baxter grumbled.

"And why wouldn't he help you get out of the asylum?" April wondered, appalled. "Did he think you really needed to be there?"

"Maybe at first," Baxter conceded. "But later he knew very well that many people were reporting seeing giant turtles. I can't believe he thought I should be in there then."

"I'm sorry," April said, and she realized she sincerely meant it.

"As far as I'm concerned, Barney can just keep thinking I'm a mutant fly stuck in another dimension. At least until I have a successful invention and become famous for that." Baxter started to walk past her.

"That's good!" April said. "You're making plans for the future."

Baxter paused. "Yes . . . I guess I am," he realized. "And it feels good."

"It does," April smiled. "And I'm sure you're going to succeed."

****

Baxter didn't want to wear out his welcome. He lingered through that day with the intent of leaving the next. He felt well enough to leave, really. His main question was where he would go. His house had more than likely been reclaimed by the city, or worse, Barney might have moved into it. He supposed he could check on that and on the status of his funds and go from there.

Splinter had continued to be congenial and welcoming to him. Of the Turtles, Leonardo and Michelangelo had definitely been the friendliest. He was surprised about Michelangelo in particular, since he had a fuzzy memory of having done something terrible to him during one of his fly rampages. Donatello was kind but aloof, and then Raphael . . . well, he was just aloof. Baxter remembered him as being the wise-cracking member of the group, but he certainly wasn't as long as Baxter was around. It was tempting to just leave without trying to make peace. Still, Baxter supposed with a sinking stomach, that wouldn't be a great start to him hopefully turning his life around. So towards nighttime, he sought out the red-masked Turtle, who was standing at the grate and staring out at the view aboveground.

"What do you want?" Raphael asked in a wary, clipped tone. He hadn't even turned, yet he knew it was Baxter approaching him.

Feeling supremely awkward now, Baxter shifted and adjusted his glasses. "I . . . just wanted to speak with you for a moment. I know you're not happy about my being here and I don't blame you in the least. I don't know how the others can feel so much better towards me than you do."

"I'll tell you how." Raphael finally turned to look at him. "Because they're all more forgiving than I am. Even Donatello, with his distrust of most humans, can be nicer to you than I feel like being. Okay, so you're not like Shredder or Krang. Maybe Shredder abused you up one side and down another. Maybe we could've treated you better the first time we met you. But you still chose to help Shredder. As far as I'm concerned, you're still a crumb in your own right. I can't forget when you kidnapped Master Splinter or when you caught all of us for Shredder. Or when you stole the Eye of Sarnoth and built yourself a Taj Mahal and sent your clay monster after us. And even if you were tipping off the deep end then and even if you were completely nutzoid by the time you used your rotten mutation gun on Michelangelo or when you started turning the city's population into insects, I can't forgive you for any of those things."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Baxter said quietly. "I've had a lot of time to think over the last couple of days. I know I brought many of my misfortunes on myself, either directly or indirectly. I still blame Krang for trying to kill me, but it never would have happened if I hadn't worked for Shredder."

Raphael actually looked surprised. "Okay. That's a start. Maybe Master Splinter was right that you've mainly been off-kilter because of how people treated you instead of that your brain's wired for it." He folded his arms. "But you're going to have to prove yourself by your actions as well as your words before I can ever begin to see you differently. And maybe I still won't forgive you for the past."

Baxter nodded. "That's more than fair. I'm going to be leaving here tomorrow. Perhaps after that you will see how I prove myself."

"Maybe," Raphael said noncommittally. "But if instead you prove yourself to be the weak link I think you are . . ." He drew his sai. "You're going to be in for a world of hurt."

Baxter flinched. "I will remember that."

"You'd better," Raphael agreed. He closed one eye, watching him suspiciously. "That time you stole the Eye of Sarnoth, exactly what were you planning to do with it?"

"I wanted revenge on everyone who had oppressed me: Shredder, Krang, all of you . . . and anyone who had abused me in the past," Baxter admitted. "I was angry at the world and I wanted them to realize what a genius I am."

"So that kind of 'everybody has to suffer for my misery' attitude really wasn't something that originated with your little fly friend," Raphael frowned.

"There was a difference," Baxter insisted. "I wasn't going to hurt the entire world as long as I was still myself. I only intended to harm those who had harmed me."

"And that makes it okay?" Raphael retorted.

"No!" Baxter snapped. "But it's not the same thing as turning complete strangers into insects, is it?"

"I guess that's even more out there," Raphael slowly conceded. "Although when I think of your Taj Mahal, I have to wonder which is more nuts. I think you've had your screws loose at least ever since the second time we met you."

"Well, if I did, I had you Turtles to blame somewhat," Baxter said bitterly. "I hated you for suspecting me when I hadn't done anything knowingly wrong. I hated you for causing me to be sent to jail and then to the asylum. And I hated how Shredder always took out his plans' failures on me. I suppose I blamed you for that, as well, since you were the reasons they failed. That was why I attacked you after I stole the Eye of Sarnoth. I wanted to feel powerful, which I'd never been before."

"I love the smell of honesty after dinner," Raphael said half-sarcastically. "And now that we have this glowing bit of info, what next?"

"You have my word I won't come after you again," Baxter said. "You looked after me and I want to return the favor."

"Like I said, you're going to have to prove it," Raphael stressed. "Your word isn't good enough."

"I understand. It wouldn't be."

"What if Tinhead finds you and tries to force you to work for him again?"

Baxter didn't hesitate as he replied, "I won't give in another time. But I don't think he'd want me back."

"I don't really think so either," Raphael said. "What's probably more likely is he might want to take revenge on you now." It was possibly true, but Raphael was really saying it just to test Baxter's reaction. He paid close attention at the flicker of fear that went through Baxter's eyes.

"Well, maybe he does," Baxter grumped, "but I was always such an insignificant thing to him. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd rather just forget about me entirely."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Raphael said. "Sometimes we wanted to forget about you too. But then you'd always turn up again like a bad penny."

"That isn't exactly the way I wanted to be remembered," Baxter said ruefully. "Although I suppose it's better than being forgotten altogether."

"That's debatable," Raphael said.

"I am sorry for attacking you," Baxter went on then. "Especially the times when I blamed you for something you weren't even responsible for. I still find it difficult to comprehend that you would help me after all that."

"Me too," Raphael grunted. "But . . . Leonardo was probably right about it not being honorable to do nothing." He paused. "I guess there's no chance of you being interested in helping us bring down Shredder."

"I don't want to be pulled back into the fighting," Baxter insisted. "You don't really need my help. I want to see if there's any chance of salvaging my life."

"Well, good luck with that, then," Raphael sniffed.

It was an odd reaction, Baxter thought. "Do you _want_ me to help you?" he said in disbelief.

"No, not really," Raphael admitted. "I just want you to _want_ to help us. But I guess that would be asking too much. You should go, like you said. Try to get back to a normal life."

"I will," said Baxter. He adjusted his glasses and turned to leave, but hesitated. "You feel that I should want to assist you because of my gratitude for your helping me. Am I correct?"

"You're not _in_ correct," Raphael retorted.

The other shoe had dropped.

"And perhaps that's the real reason why you helped me," Baxter rushed on then. "It's just as I already knew: no one helps anyone simply because 'it's the right thing to do.' They always have their own agenda."

Suddenly realizing he had made a grave mistake, Raphael spun around. "No, that's not it!" he exclaimed. "It's just what I'm personally thinking. Leonardo was the first one of us to jump to help you and it was because he felt it was the right thing to do. There wasn't any secret agenda!"

"Hmm. Be that as it may, I don't think I will partake of your hospitality any more," Baxter said coolly. "Maybe you feel that I owe you, and I'll agree that perhaps I do. But there must be another way to repay you for looking after me. I can do without being made to feel guilty for not wanting to join you in your fight against Shredder and Krang. You may tell the others that I am grateful, but not to the extent of committing suicide!"

"Wait!" Raphael tried to reach for Baxter without success. The little man was already vanishing around the corner, not about to stop. Raphael threw his hands in the air. "Oh great! What am I gonna tell Master Splinter?!"

The sound of Baxter's footsteps still echoed up and down the old corridors. Raphael frowned to himself. He knew what he had to do. Steeling himself in determination, he chased after the scientist and prayed he would be able to get through to him.


	5. Enter Barney Stockman

Baxter and Raphael were not the only ones afoot that night. Snarling to himself and shaking his fists at the sky, Shredder was storming up and down the streets, as he had been since the theft of his retro-mutagen ray gun version 2.0.

"Where is that wretched mutant fly?!" he screamed to the Heavens.

"Uh, Boss, by now he might be a wretched human again," Rocksteady pointed out as he and Bebop trailed after him.

"I am aware of that!" Shredder snapped. "Oh, if only he could have first accomplished my strongest desire, to have the Turtles turned back into brainless pets!"

"But I thought you wanted that honor for yourself, Boss," Bebop blinked.

"I do!" Shredder retorted. "But it would be delicious just to know it was done, even if I was not the instigator. At least I would know that it was my gun that performed the devious task before that idiot Baxter got it destroyed, as it almost certainly has been."

"We've been combin' these streets for hours!" Rocksteady moaned. "Days, even. I don't think we're gonna find him, Boss."

"We have to find him!" Shredder insisted. "I couldn't care less what happens to that moron, but I want my ray gun back!"

As he stormed around a corner, he slammed into someone coming from the opposite direction. They both fell backwards and sat down hard on the sidewalk.

"Watch where you're going, you miserable imbecile!" Shredder snarled, shaking a fist.

" _You_ watch where _you're_ going, you walking can opener!" was the defiant retort.

They stared at each other.

"Baxter!" Shredder exclaimed. "My retro-mutagen ray gun worked! You're human again!" He leaped up and grabbed for the other man. "What did you do with my gun?!"

"And hey, why'd you dye your hair red?" Bebop asked.

The red-haired man gave a furious cry and leaped back before Shredder could seize him. "I am _not_ Baxter!" he shrilled. "I'm Barney! Why does everyone think I'm my brother?!" He jumped up and down on the sidewalk, pumping his fists in the air.

Rocksteady and Bebop exchanged a bemused look. "Gee, he throws temper tantrums just like the Boss," said Bebop.

"I think he's older than the Boss, too," Rocksteady observed.

"And the warden said _we_ were immature," Bebop commented.

Meanwhile, Shredder fell back, stunned by the stranger's announcement. "You're not Baxter?"

"I'm Barney! Why doesn't anyone pay attention?!" Barney screamed. "I'm sick to death of being mistaken for my miserable, pathetic twin. He couldn't do anything right and yet he's the one everyone remembers! I never failed in what I set out to create and I'm barely mentioned anywhere!"

An evil gleam began to form in Shredder's eye. "That does seem an unfair shame," he said smoothly. "I'm sorry I mistook you for Baxter, Barney. I didn't even know he had a twin brother. He never mentioned you. I can see now that you're far more intelligent than he."

"I most certainly am!" Barney declared, sticking his nose in the air and folding his arms. "I never got turned into a mutant fly because I was being punished for failing at my job."

Rocksteady blinked at him. "Say, don't you even care about your brother?"

"Why should I?" Barney snapped. "He was always in my way. I was forced to walk in his shadow ever since we were children! The real joke is that he wanted to be honest! Honest, and look what he ended up with! Ha!"

"And what about you?" Shredder asked. "Are you seeking to become an honest scientist as well? Or are you hoping to branch out to . . . richer pastures?"

Barney gave him a suspicious glare. "You're the man Baxter was working for, aren't you?"

"That's right," Shredder said, "and actually, I could really use a competent scientist on my team."

"Krang's a scientist," Bebop whispered.

"I wonder if the Boss is thinking about double-crossing him again," Rocksteady muttered.

Barney started to smirk. "To tell you the truth, Mr. Shredder, I've never cared much what I have to do to become a great scientist. I tried to sabotage Baxter in the past. I've worked for criminals before . . . and very successfully, I might add. I'd work for you. And I wouldn't let you down like Baxter constantly did."

Behind the face mask, Shredder's lips were curling in a wicked smile. "Then let's go back to our hideout and talk about it. Shall we?"

"Shall we indeed," Barney purred, looking very pleased.

The group started to walk back the way they had come. Bebop looked to Rocksteady. "Gee, I never thought we'd end up with another Stockman guy."

Rocksteady nodded. "I wonder what'll happen if Baxter ever shows up again while his brother is working for us?"

"Maybe Barney hates him so much that he'll get rid of him for us," Bebop suggested. "That'd sure make the Boss happy. Baxter always causes trouble when he shows up."

Rocksteady looked to where Barney was explaining some of his inventions while the Shredder listened, intrigued. "I wonder if anyone could really hate their own brother that much."

"I bet we'll find out," Bebop grinned.

****

Raphael caught up with Baxter outside on the street. The man was peering around a corner, seeming unusually distracted by something he was watching. Frowning, Raphael moved closer. "What's going on?"

If Baxter was still upset about their encounter, he gave no indication of it. He was far more upset by other things. "My brother is talking to Shredder!" he hissed.

Raphael went stiff. "What?!"

"Worse, Barney's planning to join with Shredder!" Baxter gripped the wall. "If anything goes wrong, he'll probably receive the same treatment I did!"

"And if it doesn't go wrong, we're in big trouble!" Raphael exclaimed. "Your brother invented some whacked-out stuff, but it worked!" He frowned. "You Stockmans really don't care who you work for, do you."

Baxter scowled. "I used to care more than Barney did."

"Oh well, that's just terrific." Raphael gripped his sai. "So Barney's willingly joined Shred-Head, didn't do so just because he wanted out of a nuthouse or something like that, and Shredder's probably going to be pleased with his work. I guess there's no way you can talk him out of it?"

"Barney never listened to me." Baxter sounded bitter, even hurt. "He always saw me as the idiotic noble scientist of the family."

"And even nobleness has a price," Raphael quipped. "You sure did your share of crowing about your genius."

Baxter shrugged. "Barney always felt that I was the one most recognized. Maybe I was, but it wasn't for what I should have been recognized for."

Raphael sighed. "Well, anyway, we don't have time for this. Where did those two go?"

"Into that old abandoned house across the street." Baxter pointed. "Bebop and Rocksteady were with them."

"Okay." Raphael took out his Turtle-Comm. "I'm going to let the others know what's going on."

Before he had a chance, his Turtle-Comm rang. Baxter jumped a mile. Raphael quickly opened the device.

"Raphael, where are you?" Leonardo demanded before Raphael could say Hello. "Where's Baxter?"

"We're here together," Raphael replied. Deciding not to mention anything about their conflict right then, he said, "We're watching a crummy old house that Shredder went into. Here's the bad news: Barney Stockman went in there with him. It looks like he's found a new way to get his bread and butter."

"Oh no!" Leonardo moaned. "Give us the address and we'll be there as soon as we can. Don't start anything without us!"

"We'll try not to," Raphael said. Then, taking notice of a sneering Bebop and Rocksteady coming their way, he gulped, "But I don't think we're going to have a choice. See you later, Leonardo." He hung up before Leonardo could respond.

"Well, lookie what we have here," Rocksteady grinned. "This time it really is Baxter Stockman."

"And he's with one of them Turtles!" Bebop snorted. "It looks like they're gettin' all buddy-buddy."

"You have the situation all wrong," Baxter retorted, adjusting his glasses. "I was merely out for a stroll and I saw my brother going into that house. Naturally I wondered what was going on."

"And the Turtle joined you before you could come over and say Hello," Rocksteady finished. "You shouldn't wait any longer; the Boss has been lookin' for you."

Bebop nodded. "He wants his ray gun back."

"And that's something he's not going to get," Raphael said firmly.

"So you have it now?" Rocksteady frowned. "That just makes another reason to thrash you."

"Nobody has it now," Raphael shot back. "It smashed on the ground. You'll have to tell Tin Can he's out of luck."

"Oooh, the Boss ain't gonna like that!" Rocksteady half-chanted.

"And he's gonna blame you!" Bebop added, pointing at Baxter. "This time he and Krang really will disintegrate you!"

Baxter flinched, genuine terror flashing through his eyes.

Raphael stepped in front of him, brandishing his sai. "You're going to have to get through me to get at him," he declared.

"So he _is_ with you," Rocksteady growled. He started to lunge, balling his huge hand into a fist.

"Are you kidding?" Raphael snarked. He expertly dove out of Rocksteady's way and leaped up, kicking him in the chest with both feet. "Baxter's not 'with' anyone. He's only out for himself. But since Turtles fight with honor, as Leonardo says . . ." He spun around, using a sai to flip a metal pipe out of Bebop's hands. "That means I have to defend him anyway."

Bebop stared dumbly as the pipe flew out of his grasp. "You never used to care what happened to him," he pointed out.

This time Raphael chose not to answer. He simply kicked Bebop back as well. "Where is the little weasel anyway?" he muttered to himself. Baxter didn't seem to be anywhere in sight. Naturally he had slipped away to be out of the line of fire, as usual. He was probably halfway to Queens by now.

Raphael would be surprised that instead, Baxter had used the distraction as a chance to slip across the street and over to the house. Now he was creeping through the darkness, peering through each window as he looked for any sign of his brother. When he finally heard voices, he ducked below the window to listen.

"So you see, Mr. Shredder, my invention has a 95 percent chance of success."

"But that means a five percent chance of failure," Shredder grunted. "Still, those are good odds. I'm going to contact Krang and inform him of our alliance. Then I'll send Bebop and Rocksteady out to procure the materials you will need and we will defeat the Turtles and Splinter once and for all!"

Baxter flinched. Shredder was always trying to do that. It was nothing new. But now for his brother to be part of it, and right after the Turtles had helped him, for whatever reason. . . .

He sighed, slumping against the wall and sinking to the ground. The Turtles really didn't need his help in the war with Shredder, as he had pointed out. Nor did he want to become involved. Perhaps in the past he would have, especially out of gratitude for the Turtles helping him. Now, however, he had been beat down by life and people too many times. No matter how grateful he was, he didn't want to use that as his reason for aligning with someone as he had with Shredder.

But some part of that need to show gratitude was still present, apparently, because he did want to do something in return for what the Turtles had done for him, and it seemed to him that it should be something more than just leaving them alone now. He certainly knew all about his brother and might be able to point out some helpful information about him, if Barney remained an ally of Shredder's. He didn't really like to, though. It seemed like such a nasty thing to do to a family member. Barney had sold him out before without batting an eye, but Baxter wasn't sure he would do the same. Being blood-related meant there was an automatic connection between them, even if Barney was determined to ignore it. Still, Baxter had turned against others who had abused him, so why not Barney as well?

He still might, really. He just needed more time to think. If he was truly trying to repair his broken life, however, would selling his brother out be a great way to start, even if he was selling his brother out to the "good guys"?

And aside from any of that, was he really so okay with Barney helping a man who had been so abusive? Barney was an adult; it was certainly his own decision. But did he fully understand what he was getting into? Maybe Baxter should try talking to him just once anyway and make sure he had all the facts before deciding what to do about the Turtles.

"Someone's outside the window!" Shredder suddenly growled, dragging Baxter out of his thoughts.

"What?" Barney sounded derisive. "I don't see anyone. How do you know?"

"I sense another presence." Shredder started clomping over to the window. Curious and still not fully believing, Barney followed.

Baxter was alarmed. When he had considered talking to Barney, he hadn't wanted Shredder to be part of the equation. He didn't trust that Shredder wouldn't send him right on through the portal again. And then Krang would try to kill him again. He scrambled up, desperate to get away. Instead, he tripped over a rock and went down.

Shredder had already been close to the window. He reached through it and grabbed hold of Baxter's lab coat. "Well, what do we have here?" he sneered. "Another Stockman come to join us?"

"Let me go!" Baxter flailed, frantic to free himself, but to no avail. Shredder hauled him up effortlessly and pulled him in through the window before depositing him ingraciously on the floor.

"Let you go?" Shredder mocked. "Of course!"

Baxter groaned, slumping into the old wood.

Barney came to stand over him. "So, you are human again!" he remarked. "What did you come here for, to try to get back into Mr. Shredder's good graces? Are you trying to show me up again and take something else away from me?!"

Baxter clenched his teeth. "I came because I wanted you to know you're making a terrible mistake," he shot back. "I don't even know why I thought it was worth it." He pulled himself into a kneeling position. He had really known their reunion would probably be like this. Barney wouldn't show him any kindness or be glad that he had finally broke free of the curse that had plagued him. And yet, actually being here and witnessing it happen was far worse than simply thinking about it and knowing it would happen.

"How touching," Shredder sneered. "I don't suppose you also brought back my retro-mutagen ray gun to give to me?"

"I can't," Baxter retorted. "It was destroyed."

Shredder's eyes flashed and he dragged Baxter up to look into his hate-filled face. "Then perhaps I should destroy you to go along with it," he snarled, holding his left wrist spikes under Baxter's jaw.

Baxter's mind went absolutely blank in his terror. "No," he pleaded.

"Why not?" Shredder pressed harder, nearly drawing blood. "You love revenge so much. Maybe now it's my turn to take it."

". . . Don't do that."

Shredder started. "What?" He looked to Barney, who had spoken. "Am I witnessing some spark of brotherly love on your part after all?"

"I just don't see any need to kill him," Barney said. "I'll build you a new retro-mutagen ray gun, a better one than you've ever had before. I'll build one that's indestructible."

Baxter wasn't about to mention that Barney had tried that in the past and had failed to build any kind of a retro-mutagen ray gun. Anyway, with the right instructions, he supposed, Barney probably really could do it.

Shredder pondered. "I could simply eliminate him anyway and still have you build me my gun. But I suppose if you do still care about this pathetic brother of yours, that would only make you despise me. It wouldn't be a good way to begin our partnership." He took the spikes away and let Baxter again drop unceremoniously to the floor. "Perhaps if you prove worthy, the day will come when you will have to choose between him and me, but I won't place that choice before you tonight." He glanced towards the door. "Bebop and Rocksteady should have been back by now. Maybe those Turtles have caught up with us as well." He turned, heading for the back door. "This is probably yet another hideout we'll have to abandon. I'm not in a position to face them now. Come on, Barney."

As Shredder left, Barney lingered behind, examining Baxter to make sure he wasn't hurt.

"Why did you do that?" Baxter asked warily.

"If you're dead, you won't be able to see me triumph over you," Barney smirked. "I wouldn't want that."

Baxter got to his feet, rubbing at his jaw where the spikes had left painful marks without actually breaking the skin. "I should have known it would just be a selfish reason," he said bitterly.

Something flickered in Barney's eyes, but he made no move to correct that impression if it was erroneous in his case. "Just stay out of this," he hissed. "I have something good going for me here. I don't need you complicating it!"

"And if Shredder gets to the point where he's not pleased with your work, you'll suffer for it," Baxter retorted. "Maybe even worse than I have!" His eyes darkened. "He's not worth working for. He'll abuse you verbally all day long and sometimes he'll throw in a little physical abuse as well."

"That's only if I botch everything like you do," Barney shot back. "And I won't."

"Barney! Let's go!" Shredder yelled from the next room. "Krang has the portal open!"

Barney crossed the room to the door, then looked back. "Do something worthwhile with your life this time, Baxter," he said. "See if you can live without messing it up."

" _You're_ getting into the worst mess possible," Baxter insisted. "Why can't you see that?"

"I guess I have as much of a problem with that as you did with seeing how taking revenge on innocent people for your predicament was foolish. Goodbye, _brother._ " With that, Barney vanished from the doorway.

Baxter didn't bother following him. When the other door burst open and all four Turtles rushed in with weapons bared, he just gave a tired sigh and turned away from the other door. "Don't bother; they've gone back to the Technodrome."

"Bebop and Rocksteady ran in here, but they must have taken another path to the portal," Leonardo frowned. He walked past Baxter and looked into the connecting room. Sure enough, there was no trace of any of their enemies.

"Did you find your brother?" Raphael asked.

Baxter nodded. "I didn't want to be brought into your fight," he said tiredly, "but my brother's presence makes it personal all by itself. He isn't going to listen. For a while, anyway, Shredder wants his work and Barney wants to give it. I didn't think it would bother me this much." He plodded towards the door.

Michelangelo shifted. "So, like, now what do we do?" he wondered.

Leonardo sighed. "Now we're in a situation where Shredder once again has a scientist working for him."

"While meanwhile, we try to get his brother to help us," Donatello said quietly.

"And he's caught right in the middle," Raphael groaned.

"The middle isn't any place to be in a situation like this," Leonardo said. "I'm afraid Baxter will have to pick a path sooner or later."

"And just what are the odds of that path being anything that will help us?" Raphael said flatly. "Practically zilch, I'll tell you."

Leonardo watched as Baxter trudged out of the house and stood on the porch, staring into the night. "Let's hope he'll surprise us, and in a good way."

"I'm down with hoping, but I'm not holding my breath," Raphael declared. "This guy's a bad apple." He paused. "I wasn't expecting him to come here and try to talk to his brother, though. When he disappeared while I was mopping the floor with Bebop and Rocksteady, I figured he'd cut out for good."

Leonardo smiled a bit. "See? That's a start." He slipped his katanas into his belt and headed for the door.

Still not sure what to think, Raphael followed.

Donatello and Michelangelo trailed after him, Michelangelo glancing back over his shoulder at the empty room as they went.

"What is it?" Donatello asked.

"I don't know," Michelangelo frowned. "I just have kind of a mondo bad feeling about everything."

"It's probably just indigestion from that pizza you ate right before we left," Donatello replied. But privately he had to admit that he was worried too. The situation had certainly become far worse.


	6. Unforeseen Difficulties

Splinter frowned deeply as he listened to the Turtles relate the tale of what had happened aboveground. At the conclusion he was silent, so much so that the Turtles became uneasy. They exchanged worried looks.

"Uh, Master Splinter?" Leonardo finally asked.

Splinter looked to him sharply. "What I would like to know is, why were Dr. Stockman and Raphael aboveground tonight in the first place? Raphael said nothing about them going out."

Raphael cringed. It was the moment of truth. "It was my fault," he confessed. "I said something that got him thinking we only helped him so we could try to recruit him for our side. He stormed out and I went after him."

Splinter turned his sharp look to Raphael. "And were you able to show him to the truth?"

Raphael's shoulders slumped. "To be honest, Sensei, I'm not sure what he's thinking by now. When I caught up to him, he didn't even care about the argument. He'd just seen his brother and Shredder. And he sure hasn't said much since we left that house. Yeah, I did try to tell him that we weren't just using him, but he didn't believe it then and I don't know if he feels any different about it now."

Splinter looked to where Baxter was sitting on the couch and staring blankly at Frankenstein on the television. "I'm surprised he came back with you at all. Did he explain his reasons for that?"

"No, he didn't," Leonardo said. "I guess he was just really shaken by his brother's sudden allegiance with Shredder."

Splinter nodded. "I will speak with him. The four of you go along. Order a pizza or do something else to keep yourselves occupied."

"Really?!" Michelangelo's eyes lit up. "Thanks, Master Splinter!" He rushed off to the kitchen.

Amused, Donatello followed. Leonardo and Raphael glanced back at Baxter and then trailed after them.

Splinter walked into the living room and settled on the couch near Baxter. For a moment he said nothing, waiting to see if Baxter would make the first move.

". . . There's something I've always idly wondered. Where do they get money to buy anything?"

Splinter raised an eyebrow at the abrupt question. "Apparently we underestimated you, Dr. Stockman," he said then. "We didn't think you were listening."

Baxter turned to look at him. "I was listening more times than you know."

Assuming he meant during the time of his transformation, Splinter simply nodded and said, "I see," before moving on to the main subject. "You suffered a great shock tonight."

Baxter frowned. "It shouldn't have been. For some reason it never really occurred to me that Barney and Shredder might meet someday. Maybe I would have thought about it if I hadn't become a monster." This he muttered more to himself.

"It is difficult to see a loved one taking a path that you know will only lead to heartache and suffering."

Baxter slammed his hand on the couch arm. "That's just it!" he cried in frustration. "I don't even know that he is a loved one. We were never close, not even as children. Our parents thought we would outgrow such nonsense, but we didn't. If anything, it only became worse!" As soon as the burst of anger was there, it faded, leaving Baxter staring down at the floor. ". . . And yet, he didn't let Shredder kill me tonight."

Splinter was not surprised. "The saying 'Blood is thicker than water' is often true. I believe your brother cares about you deep down, though he may never admit it aloud."

"And there's nothing I can even do for him. Trying to convince him that this is an idiotic idea will only isolate him further." Baxter propped himself up on the couch arm.

"That may be true as well. Sometimes the most difficult thing is forcing yourself to stand back and let the person you care about make their own mistakes. If they will not listen, or if they will learn better that way, that is the only choice." Splinter watched him carefully.

Baxter just groaned. "I never wanted to be mixed up in this fight." His elbow slipped and he slumped forward before straightening again. "It's strange. . . . As a half-mindless mutant fly, I had no responsibilities and no reality to worry about other than my horrific state. Now I'm human again and it isn't easy to come back to the real world after so long. I don't know what to make of any of this."

"It would take a period of adjustment for anyone," Splinter said. "It certainly took time for me to get used to the idea of living in this body for the rest of my life. But soon I found new responsibilities to put my mind to and that pushed the other thoughts to the side."

"I had planned that my life would consist of trying to get back to normal and inventing something new," Baxter said. "Now it seems that it will also involve you, the Turtles, Shredder, and my brother."

"You can still walk away, if that is what you truly desire," Splinter said. "We will not force you to take part in our fight, as Shredder did. While it is true that we hoped you might want to help us, we did not help you for that reason."

"You could be lying," Baxter pointed out. "Shredder always lied, especially after my transformation. Over and over, he tried to convince me that he was my friend, and with my failing memory, I believed him." He paused. "But . . . I don't think what you're saying is a lie."

"I am glad," said Splinter.

"But still, even if you're telling the truth, yes, I want to walk away," Baxter spat bitterly. "This isn't a reality I'm prepared to deal with. I can't even figure out how to help myself. How can I help my brother? Especially when he doesn't want help from anyone, least of all from me." Again he hesitated. "The question is whether I will be able to walk away without being haunted by the burden of this reality."

"And you are the only one who can answer that." Splinter's voice was grave.

"Which isn't really the answer I wanted, but I know it's true. I don't know what to make of this reality or these responsibilities that have been almost immediately thrust on me, and yet I probably deserve to be faced with this dilemma. I can't think that I can just return to my human life without any consequences for my absence."

"No, but it wasn't as though you were willingly absent from your human life," Splinter replied. "Nor would you expect to find your brother deciding to join with your arch-enemy."

"I didn't, but I should have. Maybe I thought that Shredder hated me so much that he wouldn't want to have any association with more Stockmans. If I thought about it at all; I didn't think about much of anything other than myself after my transformation."

"And now?" Splinter prompted.

"Now . . . I don't know," Baxter sighed. "I suppose if I was being unselfish, I would agree to help you without question. And I don't feel I can do that. I need more time to think about this."

"Then you must have it," Splinter said. "Rash decisions very rarely turn out for the best."

". . . I never once thought the two of us would ever have a serious conversation," Baxter remarked.

"Things change. People change. Sometimes it is for the worse, but other times, change is good."

Baxter sighed. He wasn't sure what good would come from this in the future. At least, though, good had come from it now. He would far rather be taken care of by these mutants than by any more doctors in asylums. And he supposed he was still grateful, even if at least Raphael's reasons hadn't been entirely unselfish.

"Well," he said abruptly, getting up from the couch, "tomorrow I'm going to find out if I have any place to go aboveground. I can't do anything about Barney until Shredder makes his move. I don't know whether I'll do anything anyway."

"You can tell me if you heard anything that points to what sort of invention your brother is planning to make," Splinter said as he rose from the couch.

"I didn't," Baxter told him. "Only that he's 95 percent sure it will work. And that Shredder believes it will destroy you and the Turtles. But none of that is helpful." He paused. "He's going to build a new retro-mutagen ray gun, one that he claims is indestructible, but that's in addition to this other project."

Splinter sighed. "Then you had best try to get some rest, Dr. Stockman. Tomorrow will likely be an eventful day in many ways."

Baxter sighed too. "Yes, I'm sure you're right."

****

The Turtles were sitting around the kitchen table with their pizza, frowning and pondering among themselves. Even the normally exuberant Michelangelo was somewhat solemn.

"Man, can you imagine what it would be like, to have someone you cared about joining up with Shredder?" he said as he pulled a slice away from the rest of the pizza. A stubborn string of cheese grew longer and longer until he finally had to pull it free with his fingers.

"It would be awful," Donatello agreed.

"Are we even sure Baxter cares about his brother?" Raphael retorted. "I still don't think Barney cares about him."

"There's really no way to know for sure," said Leonardo. "At least on Barney's part. Baxter is so distressed that I can't believe there isn't some kind of caring there." He sighed. "And we wouldn't even know about this latest twist if you and Baxter hadn't got into that argument and left."

"Well, so I guess my boner ended up turning out alright," Raphael remarked. "As long as Splinter's able to get through to Baxter now."

"You know, he is different from when we knew him before," Leonardo said slowly.

"Oh, I don't know," Raphael interrupted. "He's been kind of bitter ever since Shredder busted him out of the asylum. He was really only possibly nice the first time we met him."

"That's not exactly what I meant," Leonardo retorted. "He's almost always had bitterness to varying degrees, it's true. But now he seems . . . weary. Beat down by life."

"You might think he'd be jumping for joy to be human again and falling all over us for taking care of him and not letting him be roughed up by Bebop and Rocksteady," said Raphael.

"Maybe by now he's gone through so much that he's still having a hard time processing this is real," Donatello suggested. "I think Master Splinter might say that, at least."

"He might," Leonardo agreed. "And maybe that's true. But it might also be that he's come down off his cloud. He followed Shredder out of blind idolization and gratitude. And it seems like Shredder burned him so much that now he just isn't willing to do the same for us."

"Too bad," Raphael said ironically. "Even though I really didn't want his help anyway."

"You could say that he's matured since then," Leonardo said. "Maybe now he's really thinking more for himself instead of naively giving his allegiance to whoever is nice to him."

"I guess you could look at it that way," Raphael agreed. "But I told him he would have to do a lot to prove himself trustworthy and I'll stand by that."

"And it's true; we can't blindly trust him because we hope he's changed," Leonardo said. "We'll keep hoping and extending kindness to him, but we'll stay on guard just in case. He was always unpredictable. He could still turn out to be an enemy."

"Well, I think he's probably okay now," Michelangelo said with a mouthful of pizza. "He doesn't want to help us, but he doesn't want to help Shredder either. He just wants to live a normal life. And like, who can blame him for that?"

Raphael sighed. "I have to admit, there were sure plenty of times that we wanted to not have to fight any more and could just enjoy life instead."

"So we can relate to those feelings," Leonardo said.

Donatello looked to Michelangelo. "You seem to like him okay, Michelangelo, even after what he did to you when he found that mutation gun."

"I wouldn't exactly say I like him," Michelangelo answered. "But I don't dislike him, at least not the way he is now. I just figure he's not going to cause trouble for us, I guess. And I'm open to being friendly to him if he seems like he's harmless." His eyes darkened slightly. "I sure don't like any of the things he did that involved all of us and Master Splinter. Well, I don't like what he did to me alone either, but that's easier to forgive than the other stuff." He chomped into the pizza as he continued. "I just don't think he's the same guy who did any of those things."

"Maybe not," Raphael grunted, "but you still have a way different outlook on it than I do."

"All of your feelings are valid," Leonardo said. "The truth is that I don't think any of us actually like him or want him here; it's just that we couldn't bring ourselves to do anything cruel to him even after everything he did to us. And I think Michelangelo is right, that he isn't the same person anymore. So as we're watching him with caution to make sure, maybe we should also try to get to know the person he is now. Maybe we can end up liking him."

"Maybe," Raphael said, "but I'm not holding my breath."

"Me either," said Michelangelo. "You'll probably never warm up to him."

"I probably won't either," Donatello chimed in. "But then again, we do both like science, so who knows."

Leonardo nodded, a far-away look coming into his eyes. "Who knows . . . about a lot of things," he said quietly.

****

Krang watched with wary interest as Shredder, Bebop, and Rocksteady came through the portal, followed moments later by an equally wary redhead. "So," Krang said, while Shredder frantically waved his arms, "I see you've found Baxter Stockman at last."

"Uh oh," muttered Bebop.

"I am not Baxter! I'm Barney!" the newcomer screamed. "Why can't anyone get it right?!"

Krang was not impressed. "What is this, Shredder?" he croaked. "Has he come up with a new approach to try to keep himself from getting killed this time?"

"No, Krang," Shredder exclaimed. "I was trying to tell you. This is Baxter's twin brother Barney. He wants to join us."

"Another Stockman?" Krang looked doubtful.

"I'm better than Baxter by far!" Barney insisted. "I even figured out what is at the root of all your failures to conquer the world!"

"Really?" Krang folded his tiny arms. "Why don't you tell us about it?"

"You continually rely on devices that will mesmerize or enslave humans and not mutants," Barney said. "Therefore, the Turtles are not under your control and they easily defeat you."

Krang's expression did not change. "We have tried enslaving the Turtles and that didn't work either. Neither has murder, anti-mutagen, or other mutants."

"You haven't tried my idea," Barney smirked. "I will build you a device that mesmerizes mutants and not humans. The Turtles and their rat mentor will all fall under its control. Then we will lead them to a secure hideout, strap them down, and use a new retro-mutagen ray gun on them before they know what's hit them!"

Krang considered the concept for a long moment before he started to smile a devious smile. "Yes . . . yes. It might work at that."

Bebop and Rocksteady looked worried. "But what about us, Boss?" Rocksteady asked. "We're mutants too!"

Shredder scowled. "If I thought it would improve your usefulness, I would let you be mind-controlled. But since there's really nothing there to control, it would be pointless."

"Gee, thanks, Boss," Bebop said with a sigh of relief.

"The most logical thing would be for the two of you to stay behind, since you will not be needed," Barney said. "But if Mr. Shredder wants to use your strength, I will craft something that will make you immune to the mesmerizer's rays."

"And there's something else we must consider," Shredder said. "If a retro-mutagen ray gun is used on Splinter, he will transform back into Hamato Yoshi. That is the last thing I want. He could easily escape and find a way to reverse the transformation on the Turtles."

"Then the solution is simple," Barney replied. "You must kill him after he is under our control."

That brought a gleam to Shredder's eye. "I will take great pleasure in at last ridding myself of my oldest enemy. Barney, you may be an asset to me yet. How long will it take you to build these machines?"

"Not long, if I have the proper materials. I will write you a list. And you will have to tell me the components of the retro-mutagen ray gun. Baxter tried to explain it to me once, but his mind was too . . . shall we say, garbled to properly explain what was needed."

"Done!" Shredder declared.

"Wait, wait!" Krang whined. "I should have the final word on what we decide to do." He looked to Barney. "Your idea has promise and I am willing to try it, but I am weary of scientists who promise success and do not deliver."

"Actually, Krang's a scientist and he's made lots of things that are supposed to work and we still fail," Rocksteady whispered to Bebop, who nodded.

"It will work," Barney insisted. "If it fails, it will be because of your incompetence and not mine."

Krang glowered. "Just remember who is in charge, Dr. Stockman."

"Of course," Barney said with a bow that might or might not be mocking.

Deciding to ignore him for the moment, Krang turned back to Shredder. "What about Baxter?" he demanded. "Did you ever find him?"

"We did," Shredder nodded. "Unfortunately, he informed us that the retro-mutagen ray gun he stole was destroyed."

Krang scowled. "You finished him off, I hope."

"No, actually." Shredder looked and sounded hesitant now. "He managed to use the gun on himself before it was destroyed. He's human again and seems to no longer have any desire to take revenge on us. I decided to let him go for the time being."

"Maybe because of his brother?" Krang looked to Barney, who frowned.

"My brother has nothing to do with whether I align with you or not," Barney insisted. "We have never cared about each other as traditional siblings do. We have competed with each other since we were small children."

"Hmm. Perhaps. But it is very rare to find siblings who do not care about each other to some extent. Shredder is one of those exceptions." Krang watched Barney closely. "What will you do if your brother interferes with any of our plans?"

"If he proves himself a nuisance, obviously we will have to get rid of him," Barney said. "But I doubt you will have to worry in that regard. Baxter is far too pathetic to try anything. He believed in the honesty of his work and when he was let down, he fell into ruin, as we all well know."

"Baxter is many things, but he is not a complete coward," Krang said. "And he doesn't take abuse well. How did he react to your joining forces with us?"

"He wasn't pleased," Barney admitted. "He tried to convince me to reconsider. But I can assure you, that is as far as it will go. He is not the type who will continually follow me around and persist in trying to change my mind. He knows that would be counterproductive. What's more, we don't like each other and what I do with my time couldn't possibly mean that much to him."

"It meant enough that he tried to talk you out of your plans once," Krang pointed out. "You may be underestimating your brother. I don't like the idea of leaving him alive to come back to haunt us again. You were going to kill him that first night, Shredder, just because he had seen you and knew that you were building his Mousers. He knows far more about our operations now."

"So does everyone else," Shredder grumbled.

"I promise you, Sir, that if my brother makes trouble, I will personally see to his demise," Barney insisted.

"And I will personally make sure that he has made sure," Shredder declared. The hint of warning in his voice was strong. If Barney double-crossed him, or tried to make it look like he finished Baxter off if he hadn't, Shredder would not be generous.

"Well . . . alright," Krang said at last. "I said we would try the plan. I just don't want any unforeseen difficulties to crop up. Baxter Stockman is a loose end. Loose ends always have the potential to be unforeseen difficulties later down the road."

"He won't be," Barney vowed. "If Baxter tries to interfere, he will die."


	7. A Walk with Michelangelo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came and modified a few things because I rewatched A Thing About Rats. I had forgotten Baxter actually lived in what appears to be an old factory! Gah.

Baxter really wasn't fully sure what he was going to do the next day. Even though Donatello could have looked up the status of Baxter's house and his funds from the computer, Baxter had decided he would prefer looking into it himself. He left as promised and started to wander around the city streets.

It was the first time in ages that he had actually seen the city through human eyes. It looked so different, and yet when the fly experience was feeling more and more like a horrible, distant nightmare, it almost felt that it had only been yesterday when it had looked like this.

He was still awed by finding himself human again. There was no more flying, or buzzing, or finding his mind wandering to the most bizarre and irrelevant subjects. When he passed by an overflowing garbage can, he reacted to it with disgust and moved farther away.

"I'm me again," he whispered, not caring at the moment who might hear him.

But what did that mean, exactly? Who was Baxter Stockman? A mad scientist? An evil genius? A pathetic kicked puppy? He had always thought he had known who he was: a scientific genius who had never received the recognition or love that he had longed for. But being fused with a fly had played havoc with his mind and his heart and now he wasn't sure at all who or what he was.

A fly suddenly buzzed in front of him, bringing him back to the present. It had probably been en route to the overflowing garbage can, but upon seeing him it didn't seem to want to leave.

"Go away!" Baxter snarled, swatting at it.

It flew up and then back down again, getting in his face.

"Go away, I said!" Baxter tore past it in terror. Something could always go wrong. If a fly followed him and some type of machine malfunctioned, it could start the whole horrible experience all over again.

By now some people had started to turn to look, confused over what was happening and what had terrified the strange man so much. Baxter paid little attention to them. All he cared about was getting away from the fly. It couldn't follow him. It couldn't. . . .

He rushed around the side of an apartment complex and slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. "Oh. . . ." The fly was gone, but there could always be others. Would he be just as terrified of them? Would they seem fascinated by him?

Maybe he never would be free of this nightmare completely. Maybe the fly had sensed that at least in the past, he had been one of them. Maybe that was why it had stayed with him for a while. Maybe it would happen with other flies as well.

"I'm not a fly anymore," he moaned. "I'm not."

The feeling of something walking on his hand made him jerk away from the wall with a surprised cry. At the sight of a small brown spider, he screamed and shook his hand vigorously to force it off.

"What is this?" he exclaimed to the old buildings. "I'm an insect and arachnid magnet? I'm going to fear flies and spiders for the rest of my life?"

It wasn't unusual to be afraid of spiders. That in and of itself didn't bother him. What bothered him was that he had never been afraid before. His reason for it now was about the most unusual there could ever be, and it wasn't even valid any longer. Spiders and flies were natural enemies, but he was not a fly. He was a human. As long as a spider wasn't poisonous, he had no logical reason to be concerned.

In distraught aggravation he kicked over an empty trash can. Then, immediately regretting it, he placed his foot on it to stop it from rolling. Kicking things was more like what his brother would do.

"I really don't know who I am anymore, do I?" he realized sadly. "Everyone who exists is made up of the sum total of their life experiences. I suppose that means I am a mixed-up mess."

"Well," a voice suddenly said from behind him, "it doesn't mean you have to be."

He jumped a mile. That was the voice of the orange-masked Turtle, Michelangelo. He spun around with accusing eyes. "Have you been following me?!" he demanded.

"Hey, chill out," Michelangelo said, waving his hands. "I just thought one of us should make sure you're okay and all. I mean, it was just yesterday that you were feeling pretty much out of it."

". . . That's true," Baxter relented. "I wasn't well."

"Yeah, and then like, you found out your brother joined Shredder. Major bummer, man!"

"I can't deny that," Baxter sighed. He trudged over to the Turtle standing at the corner of the house. "And I suppose you saw everything that happened in the past five minutes."

"Yeah, I kind of did," Michelangelo admitted.

"Flies, spiders . . . I'm a complete basket case." Baxter frowned at Michelangelo. "I still don't understand how you aren't laughing in delight at my misfortunes. Didn't I do something terrible specifically to you once?"

Michelangelo looked trapped. "Well, yeah, but I don't like to hold grudges. I mean, how does that help anything? Anyway, you can't even remember what you did. How can I be mad at somebody who was so out of it at the time that they just can't place it when they're in their right mind?"

"Raphael can," Baxter said wearily. "And I don't blame him."

"Raphael is totally protective," Michelangelo said. "He'd fight to the death to save any one of us."

"You're lucky that you come from a loving familial unit that doesn't stray from what you feel is the right path," Baxter told him. "You would never have to deal with any of the others joining a megalomaniac."

"A mega-what?" Michelangelo blinked in confusion.

"Someone like Shredder or Krang," Baxter elaborated.

"Oh," said Michelangelo in sudden understanding. "A creepazoid."

Baxter winced at the nonsensical term. "I suppose if you want to put it that way. . . ."

"Yeah, I never would have to worry about that," Michelangelo said in relief. "But if it ever did happen, I'd never give up trying to get through to them."

"Yes, well, that's because you have a much better relationship with the other Turtles and Splinter," Baxter hmphed. "It would only make matters worse if I tried that approach with Barney."

"So what approach are you gonna try?" Michelangelo asked. "Doing nothing?"

"I don't know." Baxter walked past Michelangelo and back to the sidewalk. "You already know I don't want to be mixed up in your fight with Shredder."

"But your brother being mixed up in it kind of changes everything, doesn't it?" Michelangelo replied as he hurried to keep pace with the frustrated man.

"It certainly complicates everything," Baxter sighed.

He fell silent while they walked. Not sure what to say, Michelangelo stayed quiet as well. After several blocks, however, he perked up. "Hey, I recognize this street. We're almost there."

Baxter didn't answer him. His pace slowed as they neared the last place he had really called home. The old factory with its rows of broken windows still stood as it had those years back, with one new addition. _Condemned_ was posted in large letters across the door.

Baxter went up to the nearest window and peered inside. The rotting floor and signs of rodent inhabitants convinced him that it was hopeless. He turned away with a sigh. "There's nothing for me here," he said dejectedly. "Let's go."

"So . . . why were you living in a factory anyway, Dude?" Michelangelo asked.

Baxter gave a tired shrug. "I didn't have the money to live anywhere else. I was hoping that I could market my Mousers and get money that way."

Michelangelo cringed. "Man, that's awful. So you're totally broke?"

"Maybe not. There were trust funds set up for both Barney and myself by our parents," Baxter mused. "I couldn't access mine before because they felt I didn't meet the requirements of being in dire need of it."

"Gee, what did they consider 'dire need'?!" Michelangelo exclaimed.

"Nevermind that. I just hope I'll meet the requirements now. I'll have to go to that bank and try to prove my identity."

"You're not considered legally dead or something, are you?" Michelangelo asked.

"I don't think so," Baxter frowned. "You have to be missing for seven years for that to happen." He glanced back, scowling at the factory. "I hope the city enjoys my home. I can see you've been enjoying my van and my equipment."

"Totally," Michelangelo agreed. "They've really been a help to us through the years."

"Well, at least they've gotten some use," Baxter sniffed. "I certainly haven't been around to make use of them."

". . . Are you still mad we took them?" Michelangelo asked.

"I'm not as furious as I was in the past," Baxter said, "but I wouldn't exactly say I'm jumping for joy, either. I hadn't deliberately wronged you at that point, yet you stole all of my belongings!"

Michelangelo winced. "At the time it seemed like a good idea," he said. "Since you weren't coming back and all. We didn't think of it as stealing, just . . . reappropriating."

Baxter had to admit he was surprised Michelangelo even knew that word. "Oh well. I suppose we each have reason to be angry at the other." He hesitated. "What . . . was it I did to you, anyway?"

Michelangelo hesitated too. "Are you sure you want to know? Maybe some things are better left forgotten."

"You will never forget."

"That's true. But hey, there's no need for us to both be haunted by it. I'd say you should count forgetting most of what you did as a fly a good thing!"

"I may remember eventually through dreams or other triggers," Baxter said. "And I'm not sure I like the thought that everyone around me knows what happened while I don't."

"Well, I'd just as soon not think about it, Dude," Michelangelo said. "You shouldn't have to either. I mean, you're human again now and you can just focus on the present, not the past!"

Baxter sighed. "I wish I could. Do you honestly believe that the city's population as a whole will be as forgiving as you?"

"Uh . . ." Michelangelo suddenly looked awkward. "Do you think most of them know?"

Baxter's shoulders slumped. "Most likely not," he conceded. "Almost anyone who ever knew about me forgot me long ago."

"So then you still have a chance to start over," Michelangelo said. "And maybe this time they'll remember you!"

"Hmm." Baxter looked doubtful. He quirked an eyebrow at the Turtle as he said, "You never lose your optimism, do you?"

"I try not to," Michelangelo chirped. "Life's too short not to get all the fun out of it that you can."

"I could say that you know very little of failure and the dark side of life, but what's amazing is that you do." Baxter stopped walking and folded his arms. "I used to be like you. I saw the bright side in everything even when it seemed there was no reason for it.

"Barney was the cynic. He was always telling me that I was an idealistic idiot and that I should grow up and face the realities of life. He was so unhappy all the time that I decided his life was a reality I didn't want."

"But that's . . . not what happened," Michelangelo quietly finished.

"No." Baxter turned away and started walking again. "We both suffered failures, I kept idealizing, and Barney grew to hate me more and more. I wonder if it was partially my continuing belief in hope that made him despise me so much. I had a lifeview that he didn't and that he secretly wished he could have."

"That's an awful reason to hate someone," Michelangelo frowned.

"Maybe it isn't true. But there are people like that.

"I'm not sure Barney's cynicism fully sunk in until I found I couldn't market my Mousers due to greed and corruption. Then Shredder suddenly appeared and wanted to market them and I thought there was hope after all. Instead he was using them to try to murder your mentor. I didn't even find out what was really going on until I was arrested and blamed for all the damage the Mousers caused all over the city." Baxter clenched his fists. "Then I was branded insane for talking about you and my brother was perfectly content to just let them lock me up and throw away the key. And I fell harder and farther than Barney had before me. It was worse for me since I had believed so long in the face of opposition and then found that it was all in vain."

"You must've still had some hope when Shredder busted you out," Michelangelo said.

"You're right. I did. I idolized him then. Oh, I knew he was no good deep down, but he actually wanted me and I liked being wanted. But I only took so much of his abuse, and then Krang trying to murder me was the final straw.

"No, Michelangelo, I no longer have hope in this world. For a few residents, perhaps, but not the world overall. And I hope you will never become like me."

Michelangelo frowned. "I don't think anything could do that, except maybe . . ." He trailed off. "Nah, that would never happen."

"That was one of my mistakes," Baxter informed him. "I thought all of Barney's cynicism was nonsense and it wouldn't happen."

"Yeah, but . . ." Michelangelo rubbed the back of his neck. "Nevermind. I don't wanna talk about it."

Baxter wasn't about to pry. He had a vague idea of what Michelangelo's fear might be, anyway. "We're almost at the bank," he said, abruptly changing the subject.

"Okay," Michelangelo pounced. He was all too happy to leave the topic behind. "I'll just wait around outside."

Baxter paused. "You know, if I wanted, I could simply go through the bank and out the back exit to lose track of you."

"Yeah, I guess you could," Michelangelo replied. "But you're underestimating a ninja if you think that'd really work. Not to mention a Ninja Turtle." He grinned. "We're a special breed."

"Hmm. Well, I really do have business inside, as you know," Baxter said without acknowledging Michelangelo's statements. "I'll probably be back in a few minutes."

It was a relief to find that his parents had relaxed the heavy rules on his trust fund. They had opened an account for him and placed the money there, for him to be able to access at any time if he ever came back from his mysterious disappearance. He could take out a temporary hotel room or look for an apartment. That was what he supposed he should spend the majority of the rest of the day doing. And he imagined he would have Michelangelo along for the ride.

But oddly enough, that wasn't so bad.

****

Barney frowned to himself as he sat at a long metal table in Shredder's newest Earth hideout, waiting for Bebop and Rocksteady to return with the materials he would need to build both his mesmerizer and a new retro-mutagen ray gun.

He tapped a finger on the outline of the plans he had made. They could be gone for a long time, longer if the Turtles ran into them. That left him with a lot of time to think.

So Baxter was human again. It actually had been a surprise, even though he had tried not to acknowledge it. Naturally he was glad that his brother was no longer an idiot fly creature that was slowly being drained of any humanity. That was a wretched fate for anyone.

He didn't like that Baxter had almost immediately butted back into his life and had tried to get him not to ally with Shredder. It was his life, and he saw great potential in such a venture. Shredder would want him to build things that would be a welcome challenge to his intellect. With the experience he would gain from that, there wouldn't be an invention in this world or any other that he could not conquer.

Of course, on the other hand, there was the chance that Baxter was right to be concerned. Shredder was a cruel and difficult person to work for. In just a few short hours, Barney had seen multiple examples of how he abused Bebop and Rocksteady. But they were fools in the first place and needed to be shown how to stay in line. Barney would not reap such fruits of his labors.

Practically his whole life had been devoted to trying to establish himself as a legitimate scientist out of his brother's shadow. He had to wonder now, was he trying to prove something by joining Shredder? Was he trying to prove that he was better and smarter than Baxter by succeeding where he had failed? And if that was really his motivation, was he foolishly putting himself in danger for little more than an extended case of sibling rivalry?

On the other hand, did he want to align with Shredder because he felt that they were actually after the same things? Oh, maybe he didn't want to conquer the whole world, but he certainly wanted to make them stand up and pay attention to him. On that one thing, he and Baxter had been the same. But Baxter had never wanted to hurt any innocent people until his mind had been lost inside a fly's mind. He had only wanted positive attention and recognition. By contrast, Barney really didn't care that much what happened to anyone, innocent or not, if they weren't willing to accept him as a genius.

That was what he told himself, anyway. What about the vow he had made to Shredder and Krang last night? Had he been serious about that? Would he really kill his own brother if he interfered with this plot? Barney had never really cared what he had to do to get to the top, but that?

He had never thought of himself as a murderer. But if this plan succeeded, there would be at least one actual murder regardless of Baxter's fate. He had even encouraged it. And he wasn't sure what Shredder planned to do once he de-mutated the Turtles. Would he keep them around as living trophies? Or were the whispered rumors of intended "turtle soup" not just whispered rumors?

He frowned. Unlike with Baxter, he could not hope to plead duress or insanity or anything else that might make his situation a little more pitiable and sympathetic. He was in this completely of his own free will, while in his right mind.

Maybe he was taking too much of a chance. But if all their plans succeeded and Shredder and Krang took over the world, his future would likely be assured. They would place him in a position of scientific power and he would never again just be the twin brother of Baxter Stockman. He would be important, just as he had always deserved to be.

And wasn't that status worth a little risk?

****

The other three Turtles were cruising the city in the van, staying on the lookout for anything potentially concerning. They were all sure that Shredder would immediately get down to brass tacks and want the machine built that Barney had promised him, and that most likely meant stealing materials to make it. But so far nothing unusual was afoot.

"I wonder how Michelangelo is doing with Baxter," Donatello spoke after a moment of silence.

"I'm sure he would have checked in if anything bad happened," Leonardo replied.

"If he was capable of checking in," Raphael put in. "I didn't like the idea of him going off by himself."

"It made sense, though," Leonardo said. "We needed to put most of our energy into finding out what Shredder's doing, but we needed to keep an eye on Baxter too. And Michelangelo volunteered."

"I always said he had a few screws loose," Raphael muttered.

"If he hadn't volunteered, you probably would have," Donatello pointed out.

"You're right," Raphael agreed. "But in my case, I'd want to make sure Baxter didn't do anything disturbing, instead of worrying that I needed to keep somebody else from doing something disturbing to him."

"We should still be cautious for a while, but I really think he's going to be alright," Leonardo said. "Like Michelangelo said, he doesn't want to join us, but he doesn't seem to want to turn against us, either."

"Sure, right now," Raphael retorted. "But I just don't have the confidence that things are going to stay that way. This whole mess with his brother really complicates everything."

"But he tried to convince Barney to stay away from Shredder," Leonardo said. "I'm sure he wouldn't join Shredder again himself."

"No, probably not. But what if he decides to be the Big Cheese, like he did when it came to the Eye of Sarnoth?"

"Hold that thought," Donatello exclaimed. "Bebop and Rocksteady are coming out of that factory over there. And they're carrying armloads of parts!"

Immediately Raphael and Leonardo switched to ninja mode. Donatello swerved the van, taking it across the street and blocking the exit Bebop and Rocksteady would need to use to get their own vehicle out.

"Hey, it's the Turtles!" Bebop cried.

"Too bad we can't stop to fight now," Rocksteady frowned. "The Boss was very clear: we have to get this stuff back so Barney can work on it today."

"Not on our watch!" Leonardo declared as he and the others leaped out of the van. "Turtle Power!" They ran at their enemies as one.

Bebop threw his stolen merchandise into the van and leaped inside. Rocksteady also tossed his ill-gotten gains inside, but then grabbed for his blaster. As he fired, Leonardo deflected the rays with his katanas and sent them bouncing back at the van.

"Don't let it hit the tires!" Rocksteady yelled at Bebop.

Bebop slid over into the driver's seat and revved the engine, speeding back towards the factory. Rocksteady fired a few more times for good measure, then jumped into the open back and pulled the doors shut.

"They're getting away!" Donatello cried in frustration.

"There's nowhere to even go," Leonardo retorted. "Not unless they . . ." He trailed off as the van broke a hole right through the factory and started to drive through. "Oh no!"

The three Turtles ran for the building, entering through the fresh hole just in time to see the van crash through the back wall as well. Inside, machines were damaged or broken and several people were badly shaken, but no one seemed to be hurt.

"Who were those maniacs?!" one woman yelled.

"Two criminals," Leonardo said angrily. "Shredder should pay the bill for all this!"

They hurried to the exit hole. By now the van had also crashed through the barbed-wire fence and was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, this is great, just great," Raphael growled. "They're well on their way back to Shredder and Barney by now. And Barney's going to build who knows what?!"

"Maybe we can find out." Donatello walked over to the woman who had spoken. "Excuse me, what does this factory make?"

She gave him a list that seemed to make sense to him, while Raphael fixed her with a blank stare and Leonardo headed back towards the entrance to see whether anything had dropped out of the van that might be a clue.

Raphael joined him after a moment. "They're really going ahead with this."

Leonardo gave a grim nod. "Someone should contact Michelangelo and tell him what's happened."

"I'll do it." Raphael pulled out his Turtle-Comm. "Come in, Michelangelo."

"Hey, Dude!" The video screen fizzed to life. "What's up?"

"Bebop and Rocksteady just got away with a vanful of spare parts," Raphael sighed. "What's happening on your end?"

"Like, nothing much. Baxter's looking for a place to live. I'll come out there if you want me to."

"There's nothing to see here," Raphael sighed, "except two van-sized holes and a bunch of machines in their death throes."

"We'll come out there," Leonardo said as he came over to the Turtle-Comm. "Maybe we can pick Baxter's brain about what Barney might be inventing."

"He already said he didn't hear," Michelangelo protested.

"It could be an old invention Barney talked about in the past," Leonardo suggested. "Something that he never found a use for, but that Shredder might."

"Okay," Michelangelo shrugged. He gave the address.

"Wait a minute!" Leonardo exclaimed. "That's April's apartment building!"

"Yeah, I know," Michelangelo said apologetically. "That's where he found the best deal on an apartment. He's probably going to get it."

"Great," Raphael grumbled. "As if April's building isn't the site of enough weird stuff already."

"We'll be right there," Leonardo promised. "And let's just hope it will take Barney a while to build whatever it is."

All of them certainly did.


	8. Peaches

The drive to April's building was tense. All three Turtles were thinking heavily about the events that had been unfolding that day, and what was likely to come.

"I wonder if April knows that Baxter is probably going to be moving into her building," Donatello said in concern.

"Well, if she doesn't, she will soon," Raphael grunted. "And has anybody considered what's going to happen when Irma sees him?"

Leonardo winced. "That actually wasn't on my mind."

"Baxter's single, but he's quite a bit older than Irma," Donatello pointed out.

"Ha! Do you think Irma will care about that?" Raphael snorted. "As soon as she hears 'single,' she's going to be interested."

"That's . . . not going to be a good thing," Leonardo cringed.

"Oh, I thought maybe you'd think it would be okay for her to start chasing the guy," Raphael remarked ironically. "Since he's rehabilitated and all."

"We hope that Baxter's going to walk on the side of good, whether or not he gets involved in the fight," Leonardo said, "but he's only been human again for a couple of days. We're still not sure if he's really, fully sane."

"And in any case, he's probably going to be dealing with post-trauma effects for some time," Donatello said. "I don't think Irma would know how to handle all the emotional baggage he likely has."

"Well, maybe since he spent time as a mutant, that will be enough to turn her off," Raphael suggested. "If telling her that he worked for Shredder doesn't do it."

"Actually, she doesn't go after every guy," Leonardo pointed out. "She isn't interested in Vernon or Burne."

"Or Shredder," Michelangelo added.

"Hey, sometimes even Irma has good sense," said Raphael.

Donatello pulled up in front of the apartment building. Michelangelo and Baxter were standing outside, as was April. After the conversation in the van, Donatello had to admit to a bit of relief that Irma did not appear to be present.

"Hey, April," he greeted as they climbed out of the van. "What's going on?"

"Well, I was all set to go cover the big scoop at that factory," April replied, "but then I got outside and Michelangelo told me I should stay here and talk to you guys about it!"

Baxter looked worried. "What was stolen?"

Donatello recited the list. "Can you figure out from that what Barney might be planning to make?"

"Those parts could be put together to make a great number of different machines," Baxter retorted. "I don't know which one he might consider."

"Well, just tell us some of them," Leonardo implored. "Maybe we can work out what seems the most likely."

"Yeah. We can be pretty sure he wouldn't be building a toaster oven," Raphael quipped.

Baxter looked irritated. "Oh very well. I will make you a list. But you may regret it; with only knowing of those particular parts, the possibilities number in the dozens."

Michelangelo cringed. "Maybe we should listen to it over a pizza."

"Baxter has a point," Donatello exclaimed. "Bebop and Rocksteady may have to rob more factories to get other types of parts too. The things they got wouldn't be enough by themselves."

Leonardo winced. "Well, the police will be looking out for them now. We can't patrol every factory in the city. I'd still like to hear the list so we'll have a better idea of what we need to be prepared for."

"And let's do it inside, shall we?" April broke in. "We can talk in my apartment."

Everyone was agreeable to that. They followed April inside and towards the elevator. The Turtles fell behind the humans to converse.

"So did Baxter take the place?" Raphael hissed to Michelangelo.

"Yeah," Michelangelo nodded. "But it's not furnished yet. He said he'd see about that tomorrow, maybe."

"How close is it to April and Irma's apartments?" Raphael frowned.

"It's on another floor," Michelangelo replied. "But they'll probably all see a lot of each other anyway."

"That's what we're afraid of," Donatello sighed.

The elevator ride was uneventful and so was the journey to April's door. As April took out her keys and unlocked it, Raphael stayed alert for any activity from the next apartment.

"So, April, is Irma home?" Leonardo asked, hoping he sounded casual.

"Oh, she's back at the station," April answered while pushing open the door. If she hit on the root of the Turtles' concern, she gave no indication of it. "Just sit down anywhere," she said, gesturing at the living room furniture.

Everyone claimed a spot. Baxter sat next to the coffee table with a piece of paper, composing the list. April watched him for a moment and then looked back to Leonardo. "While he's doing that, how about I interview you guys about what happened at the factory?"

"Fine with me," Raphael shrugged.

For the next several moments, April filmed the Turtles while Baxter scrawled away, seemingly unbothered by the conversation taking place as he was trying to write.

"Alright," he announced presently. "I've made a list of all the things Barney may be trying to invent."

April turned her camera on him. "Then let's have it!"

"Uh, April?" Leonardo stared at her. "Are you going to include all of this in the broadcast?"

"It could start a city-wide panic, depending on what it is," Donatello worried.

April sighed. "You're right." She switched the camera off.

Baxter leaned back. "Barney could be attempting to create a mind-control device," he said, reading from the top of the list.

"Not another one of those!" Michelangelo moaned, dramatically spreading his arms and looking up at the ceiling.

"Would Shredder really try one of those again?" Leonardo frowned.

"Hey, it's Shredder," Raphael pointed out. "You know how much he loves to keep trying the same thing over and over with only slight variations on the theme."

"But every one of those variations have been disastrous," Donatello reminded them.

"What else is a possibility?" Leonardo asked Baxter.

"An automatic dog-walker," Baxter continued.

"That uses the same technology as a mind-control device?" Raphael said with a raised eyebrow.

"Portions of it," Baxter said stiffly. "Also a highly advanced can-opener."

"Well, he sure doesn't need one of those," said Michelangelo.

Almost without even looking, Baxter swiped a peach out of the fruit bowl on the coffee table and bit into it as he continued. "A security system. . . ."

"Hey!" April exclaimed.

Baxter paused. "What is it?"

"Oh, never mind," April sighed. "They weren't just for show anyway."

Seeming honestly confused, Baxter looked from her to the fruit in his hand. "I didn't pick this up!" he cried.

"Then who did? The apartment ghost?" Raphael said dryly.

Leonardo gave him a Look.

Baxter slumped back, looking stricken. As a human, he had never done anything like that before. To do so now seemed to be a leftover sugar-craving impulse from the cross-fusion. "I . . . I'm sorry, Miss O'Neil," he stammered.

"It's okay," April insisted. "It's just a peach."

"No," Baxter said quietly. "It's so much more than that. . . ."

Hoping to defuse the awkward moment, Donatello asked, "Is that everything on the list?"

"Oh. No, it isn't." Baxter snapped back to the task at hand. "A customized robot . . ."

"Another thing Shred-Head's tried more than once," Raphael grumbled.

"So he could always do it again," Michelangelo said as he twirled a nunchuck around his finger. Upon a warning glare from April, he stopped.

"Or he could have Barney build tiny nanobots and a console to control them from a home base," said Baxter.

"That . . . also sounds like a very Shredder thing to do," Leonardo cringed.

"And hey, if it could be any one of these things, how are we going to be prepared?!" Raphael cried.

"You can't be," Baxter informed him.

"We'll just have to be prepared for anything and everything," Leonardo determined. "I'm sure it won't take Shredder long to make his next move."

"You can't build complicated inventions overnight," Raphael pointed out. "Even if it seems like that's what he does sometimes."

Baxter nodded. "It could be several days at the least before anything happens. However, on the other hand, Barney works quickly. He might be able to put something together within hours." His eyes clouded and he looked down at the peach, which he was still holding. Finally, slowly, he took another bite.

The Turtles and April exchanged a look. ". . . And what are you gonna do when he does?" Michelangelo asked.

Baxter scowled. "I don't know. What is there to do?"

"Try to stop him!" April exclaimed.

"Since you have no connection with Barney, Miss O'Neil, feel free to do just that," Baxter retorted.

April was undaunted. "But that's exactly why you should do something! Stop Barney from going down the same path you did!"

"I've tried that already!" Baxter shot back. "If I keep pushing him, he's liable to completely snap. And believe me, Miss O'Neil, you do not want to see that happen!"

"Is it worse than when he jumped up and down throwing a fit because I thought he was you?" Raphael said dryly.

"Far worse!" Baxter insisted. "Put it this way, Turtles: if you thought I was disturbing when I snapped and stole the Eye of Sarnoth, Barney falling apart is twenty times more dangerous!"

". . . You know, I'm not real crazy about seeing that," said Raphael. "What the heck happened to make him flip out like that in the past?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Baxter muttered.

April sighed. "So you're really going to stand by and let Shredder use Barney like he used you?"

"I don't know what to do!" Baxter shot back. "Barney's in this of his own free will. I can't force him not to work for Shredder. And if Shredder likes his work, there probably won't be any abuse."

"If Shredder likes his work, that probably means we're all dead and they're taking over the world," Raphael pointed out.

"Well, what do you suggest I do?" Baxter snapped.

Raphael opened his mouth, then closed it again. "I don't know," he had to admit.

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" April cried. "Surely Barney can't be completely blind to what Shredder is! He knows what happened to you, doesn't he?"

"Well . . ." Baxter frowned. "For a long time he seemed to think that I botched an experiment that resulted in my cross-fusion with a fly. At the time, I was so desperate to get him to help me reverse it that I didn't bother correcting him. Later on he seemed to understand that I was being punished for failing other experiments, but I'm not sure he really grasped that Krang was actually trying to murder me when it happened."

"Then you should tell him that," April insisted. "Make sure he really, fully understands what happened to you and why!"

"I don't even know where he is now," Baxter sighed. "Shredder never seems to pick the same hideout twice."

"And there's no shortage of places he can use," Michelangelo winced. "I guess we'll just have to keep our eyes peeled for any sign of Bebop and Rocksteady."

"I'll help too," April promised.

"Good," Leonardo smiled. "We'll solve this mystery yet."

"And hopefully before any disasters happen," Donatello said in concern.

"Uh, correction? A disaster already happened when Bebop and Rocksteady drove through that factory," said Raphael, his arms akimbo.

"True," Donatello acknowledged. "But there's very likely going to be an even bigger disaster if we're not careful."

"And my brother will be at least partially responsible," Baxter sighed.

Although they all stayed for a moment longer, trying to come to some solution that made sense, they had to concede that there was little more they could do at the present time. April decided to go out to the factory anyway and the Turtles opted to get some pizzas to take home for dinner while pausing to check in with several possible factory targets along the way.

"What are you gonna do, Baxter?" Michelangelo asked as they trouped out of April's apartment.

Baxter checked his watch. "Maybe I'll start looking at furniture," he said. "Some stores should still be open at this hour."

"Yeah, but they probably wouldn't deliver tonight," Raphael pointed out. "And if there's no furniture, you're going to be pretty miserable in a bare apartment."

"Especially since you weren't feeling well at all less than 48 hours ago," Donatello added. "You've already had a busy day. You shouldn't overexert yourself with more activities."

Michelangelo nodded. "You should probably come back with us tonight, Dude. Start furnishing your place and moving in tomorrow."

Baxter frowned. It wasn't what he had planned on, but they did have valid points. "Maybe I will," he relented. "But you really don't have to continue keeping track of me wherever I go."

"It's probably overkill," Raphael agreed, "but I for one don't trust that Shredder's going to leave you alone just because he thinks your brother might not like him coming after you. Shredder never lets go of a grudge very easily."

"I know that all too well," Baxter retorted. "But right now I'm sure he's more occupied with observing whatever bizarre invention he's having Barney make for him."

They reached the elevator and soon were heading down to the ground floor.

"Shredder will be thinking a lot about that invention," Leonardo said, "but he'll have time to turn his mind to other things while Barney is building it. Maybe he'll leave you alone if he thinks Barney will be mad if he doesn't, but on the other hand, maybe he'd think he'd get rid of you and not tell Barney."

Baxter cringed. "I wouldn't put anything past him," he admitted. "Alright, Turtles. If you feel you should continue watching over me, I won't object."

"We think it would be best, at least until we know more what's happening," said Leonardo.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. As everyone got out, Raphael stayed on high alert. They couldn't be too careful, particularly under these circumstances. No one threatening seemed to be around, but Raphael wasn't convinced. He didn't fully relax until they were safely back at the Lair.

****

The rest of the evening proceeded in a peaceful, normal fashion, despite the news that Bebop and Rocksteady had indeed robbed two other factories late that night after no one was expecting any more trouble. To Raphael's frustration, one of the factories was one of those they had checked on their way home.

"If there just hadn't been so many possible factories, we could have staked them all out," he grumbled.

"It wouldn't have been possible," Leonardo sighed. "Whatever Barney is making, we'll have to be prepared for it to show up at any time."

That certainly wasn't news Baxter had wanted to hear. He wanted to put off dealing with Barney's alliance with Shredder for as long as he could.

If he was waiting for another shoe to drop in regards to his stopover at the Lair, however, it didn't seem about to that night. He shared a quiet dinner with the Turtles and Splinter in which he neither volunteered much information at the table nor was asked to. But he felt human again for that period of time, and after the incidents of earlier that day, it was more than a little welcome.

It was the middle of the night when he flew awake, sitting straight up in bed. For several minutes he remained in that position, breathing heavily, his eyes wide. Then he remembered where he was and his shoulders slumped in his relief.

The fly wasn't talking to him in his mind. It wasn't around at all. It might even be dead; fusing with him had lengthened its lifespan far beyond that of average flies. Now that it was on its own again, death was long overdue.

He covered his eyes with a hand. The fusion had been a thoroughly bizarre experience on so many levels. He and the fly had been able to communicate with each other and understand each other in their minds, at least at first. They had both been shocked and horrified by the transformation and their combined immediate reaction was the desire for revenge on Krang and Shredder. Then Shredder had managed to trick him into believing that the Turtles were his only real enemies. That wouldn't have worked if he had been in full control of his mind. Even at the beginning, his memories had been clouded.

He had struggled so hard to stay human in spite of the horrible fate that had befallen him. The fly, on the other hand, had pushed equally as hard for the upper hand. And strangely enough, the fly had been stronger in the end. Why? Because it had been such a traumatic shock to him that his will had been seriously weakened by it?

He gripped the quilt. The experience should have made him stronger and more determined to fight against the fly. Instead, he had ended up completely unstable almost right from the start, and the combination of his madness and the fly's far lesser intelligence had been a disaster. The more he had lost his humanity, the more he had become the fly. The lengthened fusion had started to merge their minds as well as their bodies.

It really was incredible that he could be even halfway sane now. He still thought he heard the fly talking to him when he was asleep. He subconsciously engaged in fly-like behavior while awake. Flies were attracted to him and he was terrified of them and of spiders.

He slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Was he sane? Or was that just a fantasy he tried to tell himself because he couldn't bear to face the truth? How could he ever completely recover from an experience like his? Maybe he would always be half-fly now, even though he didn't look it.

"Dr. Stockman?"

He jumped a mile. Splinter had appeared in the doorway of the room.

"Do you ever sleep?" Baxter asked, not really sarcastically. He fumbled for the lamp and switched it on.

Instead of answering, Splinter said, "You seem to be having problems getting your sleep."

Baxter sighed. "I had a horrible time sleeping right after my transformation first happened. Any time I managed to doze, I woke up from night terrors moments later. But as time went on and I lost more and more of myself, sleep came much easier. My dreams became a mixed-up conglomeration of events from both my and the fly's points-of-view. Now I'm supposed to be me again and my dreams are still a mess. The fly doesn't leave me alone. I keep dreaming about it talking to me, like it used to do at the beginning."

"I see," Splinter nodded.

Baxter looked down at the quilt, debating with himself. ". . . I realize that what you experienced wasn't actually a cross-fusion, but even regular mutations result in at least partially becoming something else emotionally as well as physically. That imbecile Bebop, for instance, displays some warthog behavior which I assume was not present when he was human. Do you ever have the urge to engage in rat-like impulses?"

Splinter slowly walked into the room. "I do have an increased fondness for cheese, when it isn't on a pizza," he remarked. "And I struggled against The Rat King's mind-controlling powers. But I have overall been very successful at retaining my humanity even in this form."

"How?" Baxter asked. Instead of demanding or otherwise being forceful, he sounded rather lost and desperate.

"Mostly with great mental strength and willpower." Splinter looked hard at him. "Leonardo told me about the peach."

"I couldn't believe I'd done such a thing," Baxter said helplessly. "Apparently some part of the fly still lives in me."

"You must be patient, Dr. Stockman," Splinter said. "It has only been a short time since you were part-fly. It isn't unusual to have problems fully getting back to what you were. After any traumatic experience, there is always a recovery period. I believe you will be able to throw off these impulses once you train yourself to recognize them and stop yourself from acting on them. Then you will become fully human again, in your mind as well as your body. But you cannot rush it. That will only create complications and make it far more difficult for you in the long run."

"And the dreams," Baxter prompted. "Will they stop then?"

"I cannot say," Splinter admitted. "They may stop completely or they may still come occasionally. For every person it is different." He paused. "But do not allow yourself to believe what your brother Barney tells you about yourself. You are stronger than he believes. You could very well have descended further into utter madness following your separation from the fly. During the time you were delirious and ill, none of us could be certain that you would come out of it with your faculties intact. You have far exceeded what could have been."

"If you want to look at it that way." Baxter sounded doubtful.

"In your case, it was mainly kindness that you required to begin to heal," Splinter said. "You still must take the rest of the journey yourself, but you will not be alone."

"That is still incredible to me," Baxter said quietly. "Especially if I don't join you full-time in fighting Shredder. I always had to handle my problems by myself before, including my transformation. Not even my own brother was my ally then. When I can't rely on my family, I wouldn't expect that near-strangers and former enemies would be of any help."

"Allies can be made in many places and under many circumstances, even if they once fought on opposite sides. All it truly takes is forgiveness, trust, and open minds." Splinter watched him carefully. "As for not likely being present for many or all of our battles, we have many allies who do not participate in all of our fights. Most of them, in fact. Only April O'Neil is almost always present."

"Maybe I'll want to help you, and often, after I've had more time to think," Baxter said. "In the past I would have jumped at the chance, since you showed me kindness. I'm not that person anymore."

"Perhaps in the future you will be again, or perhaps that is a part of your personality that never will return," said Splinter.

"Another way that people change," Baxter remarked.

"Yes, it is," Splinter agreed.

Baxter leaned back, gazing up at the ceiling. "Maybe it isn't even just that I wanted to live a normal life," he said, mostly to himself. "Maybe I'm afraid that even if I tried to help you, I would fail again."

"It is natural that your confidence in yourself and your abilities would be badly shaken after everything you've been through," said Splinter. "But perhaps you can regain that confidence once more when you invent something new and it works."

"You know, it really never was that my inventions didn't work," Baxter mused. "It was simply that the Turtles always found ways to triumph in spite of them. I was a brilliant scientist and I was vastly under-appreciated. I could be great again someday. But I . . . don't want to invent something to stop Shredder that might hurt my brother."

"I believe you will determine what to do," Splinter said. "And it will be beneficial to many people, including your brother, if you want it to be."

Baxter didn't look impressed. "I doubt anything I invent would be beneficial to Barney. He would be bitter about it solely on the grounds that I invented it. He wouldn't let it be beneficial to himself."

"We shall see," Splinter said firmly.

Feeling that he had talked himself out, Baxter relented and didn't pursue it further. "Alright then. I'll try to put your words to good use and you can try to go to sleep. If you were planning on it in the first place."

"Goodnight, Dr. Stockman." Splinter turned and left.

Baxter decided he could either stay up thinking or try to go to back to sleep as well. Either way, he might encounter his inner demons. But at least there was a chance of something else with sleep, so he laid back down and turned off the lamp.

****

Shredder stood by, watching with folded arms as Barney assembled the stolen factory pieces into two very different contraptions. Despite the late hour, neither of them had any interest in sleep. Boards had been placed at every window to keep passers-by from realizing that the old, abandoned building was currently not so abandoned. Newly installed lights burned brightly overhead.

"I am impressed, Dr. Stockman," Shredder said smoothly. "You've already done so much and with so little time to do it in."

"Just another example of my genius, Mr. Shredder," Barney retorted with a smirk. "It's good that your mutants were efficient at gathering the necessary parts from those factories, despite interference from both the Turtles and local law enforcement."

"Occasionally they can be useful. When will the mesmerizer be ready?" Shredder eyed the blueprints on the table. Already the first device looked to be a great deal complete.

"By mid-morning, most likely," Barney said. "And it shan't take me long at all to build your retro-mutagen ray gun, now that I know the proper components."

"Excellent!" But Shredder's eyes abruptly darkened. "Just remember, Barney, that Krang isn't completely sold on your joining the team. There had better not be any screw-ups."

"There won't be!" Barney snapped. "Maybe you needed to nag my pathetic brother this way, Shredder, but you don't need to nag me! I know what I'm doing!"

"I had better not," Shredder said crisply. "And you had better know what you're doing. I took a chance by bringing you into our operations."

"You will be sorry you ever questioned me when you see the results," Barney said.

"That remains to be seen. I hope you've planned what to do if your brother shows up," Shredder growled.

Barney reached for a heavy crowbar on the table. "I have," he promised. "Oh, I have."

Shredder's eyes glinted at the sight of the potential weapon. "You truly are different from Baxter, aren't you," he mused. "You are very cruel, Barney. I like that."

Barney sneered. "You'll be seeing a lot more of that. Baxter never lived up to his full potential. Some of his insane schemes came close, but he was so pathetic that he still failed. I doubt he even really understands the truth about me and just how much I may be like you."

"No, I don't imagine he would," Shredder mused. "I'm not sure I do, either, but I'm looking forward to seeing it."

"And see it you will," Barney vowed. "Tomorrow."

The machine sparked briefly as though in eerie response.

Shredder gave it a look. "I had better," he said. "This must be in working order by then. And just to be sure, we'll test it on Bebop and Rocksteady before using it on the Turtles and Splinter."

"Whatever you want, Mr. Shredder," Barney replied. "But do you still want me to make objects that will protect them from the mind-controlling rays after we do our test?"

"Perhaps," Shredder said in a most unconcerned and uninterested tone. "There might not be time for that before I have my triumph over my hated enemies at long last. Those idiots could stand to be mind-controlled just for that length of time."

Barney looked back to the mesmerizer, partially so Shredder could not see his frown. "We'll see then," he said before falling silent. Shredder valued his mutants so little; he might value Barney the same someday, just like Baxter said.

Apparently not caring what Barney thought, Shredder just turned to walk away. "I'm going to bed now," he announced. "Wake me when the machines are ready, if I'm still asleep."

"Very well," Barney answered.

 _Were you right, Baxter?_ he wondered in his mind. _And even if you were, will that make any difference to me?_

He honestly didn't know the answer to that. Nor was he sure what he actually meant by showing Shredder that crowbar. Maybe he was just trying to impress the man by acting tough. He had a hard time featuring himself planning the premeditated murder of his brother, no matter how frustrated he was with him. They had never been close, just as he had said. But had they loved each other at all, in any way? And would that keep them from becoming complete enemies, even if they were now on opposite sides?

Tomorrow might very well prove the answer to those questions as well.


	9. The Mesmerizer

Morning dawned cold and gray with a very high probability of rain. Not bothered, the Turtles gathered in the kitchen to make breakfast. Splinter soon followed.

"Good morning, my students," he greeted. "What are your plans for today?"

"Good morning, Master Splinter," the Turtles echoed.

"Since there's not much we can do until Shredder makes his move, we thought we'd spend the day looking for his hideout and helping Baxter find furniture for his apartment," Leonardo said.

"A productive plan," Splinter said.

"How was Baxter doing when you saw him last night, Master Splinter?" Donatello asked.

"Ah, so you were awake then, Donatello," Splinter noted. "Dr. Stockman was alright. Somewhat shaken from a dream he had just awakened from, but otherwise very well, all things considered. I am still certain he will recover from his ordeal and be able to reintegrate into society, if that is what he desires."

Leonardo watched him closely. "Do you ever still wish the same thing for yourself, Sensei?" he asked kindly.

Splinter paused. "Occasionally," he admitted. "I have been a lot less thrilled with the idea ever since I saw how many people reacted to my current form. But we have met humans who have been close allies of ours and that has renewed my faith and hope in humanity once again."

"It's too bad the retro-mutagen ray gun smashed on the ground so we couldn't have brought it home for you," Michelangelo said.

"Thank you, Michelangelo, but that is alright," Splinter assured him. "I am in no rush to try to resume my old life. I doubt if it would even be possible by now."

"Hey, if Baxter can get back to his old life, it seems like you should be able to too, Sensei," Michelangelo insisted. Then, blinking in confusion, he tried to correct himself. "Also?"

"You have a point," Splinter said, hiding a smile of amusement. "But I never said it would be easy for Dr. Stockman, only possible. Of course, I do not know the details of what he left behind. Perhaps in some ways, it would be just as difficult for him as for myself."

"I'm sure you could reclaim the Foot Clan if you really put your mind to it, Master Splinter," Michelangelo chirped. "Or even start a new one!"

"Perhaps someday, but I doubt that many human students would follow a mutant rat," Splinter said. "For now, the four of you are enough for me. You have done well at protecting the world from the threat of Shredder and Krang."

"Thank you, Master," Leonardo said.

"And now we should put all such thoughts out of our minds," Splinter continued. "There are problems at our doorstep that we should address."

"Well, if you think Baxter is going to be alright and not go back to working on the wrong side of the law, we can probably stop worrying about him," Leonardo said.

"I just wonder what he's going to do when his brother reveals his big invention," Raphael frowned. "And he said something last night about how dangerous his brother is when he snaps."

"Yeah," Michelangelo chimed in. "He said it's a whole lot worse than when he snaps himself."

"Then that is definitely a matter of concern," Splinter said. "But hopefully nothing will happen that will push Barney Stockman to that point." He turned to Leonardo. "And yes, I do believe Dr. Stockman is serious about changing his life. I also believe he will do it. Everyone is capable of changing for the better, but very few actually succeed."

"Bummer," said Michelangelo.

"It's a lot easier to change for the worse," Raphael commented.

"Unfortunately true," Splinter agreed. "Perhaps Dr. Stockman could have even made good use of his mutation, had he been of a mind to do so."

"But his mind wasn't even all his own then," Michelangelo said. "He had to share it with a fly!"

"True as well," Splinter nodded. "Most situations are quite complex and not so cut-and-dry. With my own mutation, I at least never had an intruder in my mind other than when The Rat King attempted to control me. I was always completely free to decide how to handle what had become of my life."

"You fought back against The Rat King, though," Raphael retorted. "Baxter could have done the same with the fly. And he could have won, if he'd been stronger."

"It's easy to say that without knowing what it was like for him," Splinter cautioned. "Perhaps he fought as hard as he could."

"Ha! He was too busy figuring out how to take revenge on all of us," Raphael snorted. "And we weren't even responsible for what happened to him in the first place!"

Outside the room, Baxter clenched a fist. It was a difficult conversation to listen to, but once he had approached and realized they were discussing him, he hadn't been able to bring himself to turn away. Some of the opinions hurt while others amazed and humbled him, but all of them, he thought in chagrin, were true.

He should have been stronger, he felt. But he had given it his all, for all the good it had done. And his desires for revenge, both logical and nonsensical, had consumed him.

For Splinter to actually believe in him after all that and more, made him want all the more to prove him right and not let him down. It was a strange feeling, a much different feeling than he remembered ever experiencing before. He had cared almost exclusively about his personal success in the past, but only because that was what he wanted for himself. No one had ever believed in him before now. Certainly not someone whom he had hurt.

Coming to another decision, he walked into the doorway and then the room. Everyone looked up with a collective jerk.

". . . Good morning, Baxter," Leonardo said slowly, carefully. While he was afraid Baxter had overheard, he wasn't about to say anything that would reveal their discussion, just in case he hadn't.

Baxter took the problem out of his hands. "I heard what you've been saying about me," he said, looking to each mutant as he spoke.

Michelangelo immediately looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "You did?" he cringed.

"Yes. And don't worry; I'm not angry about any of it," Baxter was quick to assure them. "It's all true. I've done many things I'm not proud of, some when I was out of my mind and some when I was mostly angry and hurt. But Splinter still believes I can be a worthwhile person. I want to show that I can and that his trust is not misplaced."

For a moment there was silence. Then Michelangelo came in with, "Great!" as he waved a hand in the air.

"It's still just words," Raphael pointed out. "Granted, it's words I don't think you would've said before, so I'll give you credit for that. But I'll still need to see some proof."

"And you will," Baxter promised.

"I believe we will," Splinter said. "I feel your sincerity, Dr. Stockman, and I am pleased."

"Have you decided what to do about Shredder and Barney?" Donatello asked.

"No, I haven't," Baxter admitted, and Raphael rolled his eyes. "I can't really decide what to do until I see what they're doing," he continued. "The only thing I know for certain is that this is a problem I can't simply sweep under the carpet and ignore while I try to go back to a normal life. My life can never be normal now, not after what I've seen and done." He sighed. "And I will have to make peace with that."

Splinter regarded him in approval. "Then you have already learned a valuable lesson and matured a great deal. Yes, you certainly cannot return to life as it was before you met Shredder. But that does not mean that your new life will be filled only with sorrow and heartache."

"Yeah!" Michelangelo chimed in. "Maybe it'll be better than before!"

"That is possible," Splinter agreed. "When I was first mutated, I did not think life could ever be worthwhile for me again. But then I began training my new students and I found a quality of life and a level of happiness that I had not had before. I am certain that there are good things in store for you as well, Dr. Stockman, if you know where to look to find them."

"Well, I don't know about knowing where to look," Baxter retorted. "But I'm willing to give it a try and see what happens."

"Having an open mind is an important first step," said Splinter. "Now, how about breakfast?"

"That sounds good. Thank you," Baxter said.

"How about a yoghurt and granola pizza?" Michelangelo offered. "Delicious and healthy!"

Baxter grimaced. "I don't think so."

"Okay, but you're missing out," Michelangelo chirped.

"That," Baxter answered, "is debatable."

****

Barney's eyes gleamed as he stood in front of the completed mesmerizer. "It's finished," he announced to his waiting audience.

"Excellent," Shredder purred. "Now. Bebop, Rocksteady, you're going to test it for us to make sure it works."

"But Boss, you said you weren't gonna mind-control us!" Rocksteady exclaimed.

"It's only for a few minutes," Shredder insisted.

Barney frowned. He had also completed the headbands that would block the mind-controlling rays, but Shredder did not know that. As far as Shredder knew, he was lying to his mutants just to appease them.

"Well," Bebop said slowly, "if it's just for a few minutes."

Barney turned on the machine and pointed it right at them. "I've set the range so it will only affect them," he said as they went absolutely rigid. "I can turn it up to reach anywhere in the city."

"You are very efficient." Shredder walked around the frozen thugs. "They certainly seem to be mind-controlled. Give them a command."

"Dance the jitterbug," Barney ordered.

"Do they even know the jitterbug?" Shredder raised an eyebrow.

Whether they did or not, Bebop and Rocksteady proceeded to do quite a passable imitation of it.

Barney leaned back with a smile. "As long as it's in my mind, they can do whatever I tell them," he said.

"Ah, I see." Shredder was impressed. "So your thought waves transfer to them in images and not only in words."

"Yes." Barney ducked as Rocksteady swung Bebop and he went flying across the room. "Are there any other commands you want them to perform?"

"Let's find out how vicious they can become," Shredder mused. "They attack the Turtles with relish, but with each other they only squabble occasionally. I want to see if your mind-control is strong enough to make them ignore their ties."

Barney's stomach rolled. He wasn't at all sure that he liked that order. But, obediently, he spoke into the machine and said, "Attack each other."

"Fight to the death!" Shredder snarled.

Bebop picked himself up and charged directly at Rocksteady, who was ready for him. They met and fell to the floor, their fighting spirit and hatred practically tangible in the air as they struggled.

Barney tensed. "You don't really want them to kill each other, do you?"

"Of course not," Shredder retorted. "I need them. I just want to see if they are now capable of such feelings towards each other."

Bebop reached up, getting his hands around Rocksteady's throat. Just as he started to squeeze, Rocksteady reached for a knife and moved to drive it into Bebop's heart.

"Stop!" Barney commanded.

The mutants froze in place.

Barney gripped the machine, his knuckles white. "Another moment and they would have both been dead," he snapped.

"But they aren't." Shredder looked and sounded delighted. "Yes . . . your mesmerizer will serve my purposes just fine, Dr. Stockman. Go ahead and bring them out of it. Or don't and just widen the range now."

Barney shut the machine off. "I made the headbands that will protect them," he said stiffly.

"My, but you have been busy, haven't you," Shredder remarked. "Very well then; go ahead and let them be immune to the next round."

Rocksteady and Bebop were both staring at each other, bewildered.

"Duh . . . why are we like this?" Bebop asked.

"Why do I have my knife out?" Rocksteady blinked.

"You were fully under our mind-control," Shredder said.

"We didn't do anything stupid, did we?" Rocksteady worried.

"You only did what was asked of you," Shredder said smoothly. "Now get up, you morons. Dr. Stockman has the devices that will protect you from the rays when we capture the Turtles and Splinter."

"Oh goody!" Rocksteady crowed. "Then we get to watch!"

Barney snapped a headband on each of them, explaining its functions at the same time. He hoped the slight trembling of his hands wasn't visible to anyone other than himself. Bebop and Rocksteady were unlikely to notice, but Shredder might, and that could lead to unpleasant things. Barney had presented himself as tough and uncaring; he didn't want that image spoiled now.

He had been involved with many criminal activities in the past, but never attempted murder. Although he talked big and acted as though it didn't bother him, it was becoming more and more distressing the closer he drew to the event. Somehow he was going to have to steel himself, since he was giving the commands through the mesmerizer. But when it bothered him to set those imbeciles up for a fatal battle, how would he handle what Shredder had in store for his enemies?

And how would he handle it if Baxter interfered? He still didn't know. He really wished he wouldn't have to find out. But deep down, something told him that he would. Baxter had just re-entered his life; it was unlikely that he would disappear again now, when Barney was making such serious and life-altering decisions that Baxter was concerned about.

_Why did you have to reappear, Baxter, and show such concern? You didn't seem to before._

Of course, Barney had never gotten into anything comparable to this venture before. And while they had always been competitive, if Barney was honest with himself, deep down he knew that Baxter had never been downright devious. He had never sabotaged Barney or tried to cheat his way to the top. He had merely parted ways with Barney when he realized that they could not work together even as adults and that it was only toxic for them to be in the same area. And . . . if the current situation were reversed, would Barney even try to convince his brother not to do this?

Actually, the situation had been reversed in the past. Barney had encountered Baxter during the brief time he had worked for Shredder. Barney had mostly mocked his brother for falling so far despite wanting to be honest. But Barney hadn't worked for a criminal and then regretted it, as Baxter now did. Perhaps he would be sadder and wiser too, in Baxter's place.

Maybe . . . maybe he just wanted to make Baxter look bad in his mind to try to justify the fact that he had never been very nice to him.

"Dr. Stockman!"

He jumped a mile. "What is it?" he frowned.

Shredder was glaring at him. "I'm waiting for you to turn on the mesmerizer again and go after the Turtles and Splinter!"

"Oh. Of course." Barney switched on the machine and extended its range.

He had made this bed out of his bitterness and anger towards his brother and his desire for something more out of life. Now he had to sleep in it, no matter what doubts he might be having.

****

April sighed to herself as she walked into the Channel 6 building with a wrapped bagel and took the elevator up to the office floor. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she barely noticed Irma at her desk.

"April!"

She looked up with a start. "Oh. Were you talking to me, Irma?"

"No, I was talking to Vernon," Irma said in exasperation. "What's going on, April? Are you on the trail of a big scoop?"

"I wish," April sighed, taking a bite of her bagel. "Shredder's planning something big and I have no idea what it is! And if I don't find out, Burne's liable to assign me to cover a tulip festival or something equally dull!"

"A tulip festival in Fall?" Irma blinked.

"Oh . . . you know what I mean." April leaned against the desk.

"Well, if you want big news, I guess you'll have to do what you always do and go out there to find it," Irma said. "I wish finding a decent guy was just as easy."

April regarded her friend in amusement. "Finding big news isn't usually easy either, unless Bebop and Rocksteady are trashing the city where everyone can see."

Irma propped herself up on an elbow. "You must already know something or you couldn't know that Shredder's planning something. Unless it's just a feeling you have because nothing's happened lately."

"Didn't you see my story last night?" April exclaimed. "Bebop and Rocksteady broke into a factory and stole a whole bunch of things!"

"Oh. No, I wasn't watching the news," Irma sighed. "I was watching a beautiful old romance on one of the classic movie channels. Then I got myself depressed because it was only a movie and I ate an entire pint of ice cream!"

Now April's expression was still amused, but tinged with sympathy. "I thought Burne would love my story, but he said Bebop and Rocksteady stealing things is old news. I have to find a new angle for a follow-up story today or he'll give it to Vernon!"

"And Vernon would just give it back to you as soon as he finds out how dangerous it is," Irma smirked.

"That's probably true," April said with a weak smile.

"Anyway, don't you know anything else about what's happening?" Irma prompted. "The Turtles always seem to have some kind of insight on things."

"The only other thing I know is that Shredder's got himself a new scientist," April frowned. "I guess maybe I could work with that. No one's supposed to know about it, though. I might get his brother in trouble if I do a story on that."

"Shredder's brother?" Irma looked confused.

"No! The scientist's brother." April pushed away from the desk. "Maybe I'll run it past the Turtles and see what they think."

Irma stood. "Hey, is this scientist's brother single?"

April looked back. "Irma, you have a one-track mind. But I don't think he'd be your type."

"Single men are my type!" Irma retorted.

"You're not interested in Mr. Thompson," April pointed out. "Or Vernon."

Irma made a face. "Interested in Vernon? Please! And Mr. Thompson has that on-again off-again thing with that Tiffany person."

"This person is older than you," April said. "But not as old as Burne. And he used to be a mutant."

"'Used to be'?" Irma echoed. "That means he's human now, right?"

April made it to her doorway before she looked back. "Yes, but he's still pretty shaken from the whole experience. It's probably going to take him a while to adjust to being human again."

". . . It's not Splinter, is it?" Irma suddenly asked.

Now April was definitely amused. "No, it isn't. Anyway, I think Splinter is older than Mr. Thompson. I'll see you later, Irma. I really need to talk to the Turtles." With that she vanished into her office.

Irma sighed, leaning on her desk. "It's always something," she said to the lobby. "Why can't I ever find a nice, normal guy without issues for once?"

****

Breakfast was just ending when April's call came through. Leonardo took it and listened with furrowed brow to her query. "I don't know, April," he said slowly. "I'm not sure doing a piece on Barney would be a good idea."

Baxter, who had been helping to carry dishes to the sink, paused and looked over with a frown. "She wants to do a story on Barney?!" he exclaimed. "On the news?!"

"That's right." Leonardo looked up.

Baxter set his stack of plates down and leaned over to be visible on April's Turtle-Comm screen. "That would absolutely not be a good idea under any circumstances, Miss O'Neil!"

April looked slightly taken aback. "O-Okay," she stammered. "I wondered if maybe it wouldn't be, for your sake. . . ."

"Not just for my sake," Baxter interrupted with impatience. "It would heavily inflate Barney's ego to see himself on the news. He would feel that something had finally given him the recognition he had been lacking, and that would make him think it was all the more worthwhile to pursue it. Also, it might be dangerous for you. Shredder would be angry that you were reporting on his activities, especially when he and Barney haven't publicly made a move yet!"

"Shredder's always angry at me," April responded. "I'm not afraid of making him mad. But you know your brother better than I would, Dr. Stockman. Don't worry; I won't do the story on him. Not yet."

Baxter tried to relax. "Thank you." He turned away, again lifting the plates.

The sound of something clattering to the table made him whip around again. Leonardo had dropped the Turtle-Comm. Stranger than that, he wasn't making any move to pick it up or to apologize to April. Instead, he was turning and heading for the door with blank eyes.

"Leonardo?" Baxter said in disbelief. "What are you . . ."

He trailed off as Raphael brushed past him, also blank as he followed Leonardo. Donatello and Michelangelo trailed after them, leaving dishes and cups and everything else behind.

"Hello?!" April called from the Turtle-Comm. "What's going on over there?!"

"Splinter?!" Baxter exclaimed at the same time. "Surely you aren't part of this too . . . !"

The rat pushed Baxter out of the way with his cane, causing him to stumble back against the sink while still desperately trying to balance all of the plates. As Baxter stared in shock, Splinter plodded after the Turtles with the same blank look.

"Leonardo?! Raphael?! Somebody!"

The sound of April's voice snapped Baxter back to the present. Setting the dishes on the sink, he hurried over to the Turtle-Comm and picked it up. "They've all left," he reported. "Just like that."

"What?! Why?" April looked confused and even a little put-out. "They wouldn't all run out unless something big had just happened!"

"They all appeared to be in some sort of trance," Baxter told her. His eyes widened in his realization. "Shredder's plan! He's starting it now!"

"So his plan is . . . mind-control?!" The alarm was sharp in April's voice. "Dr. Stockman, you have to follow them and see where they go! I'll catch up as soon as I can!"

"But . . ." Baxter trailed off. April was right; he couldn't stand idly by and do nothing while he was actually witnessing the genesis of Shredder's plan and Barney's machine. In one way, his decision had been made for him. In another, it was his own choice to follow through with it.

"Alright," he said then. "They were moving slowly; I should be able to keep up. I will let you know when their destination becomes apparent."

He didn't wait for April's reply before he hurried after them and chased along the landing while they sloshed through the water. "They're heading for the van," he realized before long.

Indeed, within moments, the mutants arrived at the van and began to pile inside. Donatello revved the engine and they sped out when the grate was lowered. Baxter barely managed to dive out as well before it closed behind him.

"What's going on now?" April demanded from the Turtle-Comm. "Haven't you even tried talking to them?"

"It wouldn't do any good when they're under Shredder's mind-control," Baxter retorted, pulling the device out of his coat pocket as he got up. "And they're heading West."

"Sometimes talking to someone who's being controlled can get through to them and it helps break the spell," April cried. "I'm almost to the news van now. I'll try to pick up their trail!"

"Talking can break the spell," Baxter snorted. "How completely unscientific." He ran along the side of the road, trying to keep the van in sight even though he couldn't possibly catch up with it.

"Something doesn't have to be scientific to be true!" April insisted. "It helped me when I was mind-controlled!" She was climbing into the van now; Baxter could see her pulling on her seatbelt and hear the starting of the engine.

"Alright. Nevermind about it now. I can't try talking to them anyway until I can catch up." Of course, Baxter doubted he would really be able to. Donatello seemed to be driving at the absolute legal limit and Baxter was ready to collapse. He was really quite amazed that he had kept the van in sight all this time.

Wherever the Turtles were going, it either seemed to be in the warehouse district or they were taking that route to get there. When they faded from view, Baxter was able to follow the tire marks for quite a while until the van entered a busier street. At that point he communicated with April again and reported that he'd lost them.

"I see them!" April exclaimed after a moment. "They're turning in at an old building."

"Well, that isn't unusual," Baxter grumped.

April gave him the address. "They're getting out and going in. I'm going to follow them!"

"You should at least wait until I'm . . . oh, nevermind." Baxter closed the Turtle-Comm and hurried on ahead. April could take care of herself, probably better than Baxter could.

And what was he even going to do when he got there? He hadn't planned anything out; he hadn't had time. How would he be much of a force against Shredder and Barney?

The answer, of course, was that he wasn't. His best chances of providing any assistance would probably come from staying in the shadows and trying to disable the mind-control machine.

He soon reached the street in question and cautiously approached the building from an angle. Slowly he rose up to the window, peering inside through a space where the board up against it had fallen away.

He wasn't sure what he thought he would see, but it wasn't the sight of the Turtles and Splinter all lined up to enter a dimensional portal. Shredder and Barney stood in front of them, obviously pleased and triumphant. Bebop and Rocksteady were bringing up the rear, both grinning nastily in enjoyment at the sight of their hated enemies in a brainless trance. April was nowhere in sight, but hopefully that meant she hadn't been spotted.

"Lookie here," Rocksteady giggled, making rabbit ears behind Splinter's head while Bebop waved a hand in front of Leonardo's face. "They don't notice nothing!"

"Of course not, you fools," Barney retorted. "They're under my powerful mind-control, just like you were when we made our test!"

"Alright," Shredder growled. "Everyone into the portal!"

"Should we really wait to finish this in the Technodrome, Mr. Shredder?" Barney frowned.

"That will be the ultimate defeat," Shredder sneered. "My enemies destroyed at last right in our fortress!"

"Krang didn't seem to agree with you," Barney sniffed. "So if something goes wrong, it will be your fault."

"Nothing had better go wrong." Shredder watched as their mind-controlled slaves trouped inside. "Now come on! And don't forget the mesmerizer!" He dove into the portal with what looked like a retro-mutagen ray gun.

Bebop and Rocksteady hurried in after him. "Wait for us, Boss!" Rocksteady called.

Baxter was debating whether to grab Barney right then and try to talk to him, but Barney took another device in his arms and awkwardly stumbled into the portal before Baxter could do a thing. Then April ran out from behind some crates, leaping in after them.

"Oh no," Baxter groaned, even though he had been sure it would happen. And now the portal was just about to close. He only had seconds to make his decision.

And what could he do? There was really only one choice. He struggled to push the old window up, knocking the board to the floor as he did. He barely made it in through the window and into the portal just as it started to close.

He shut his eyes tightly on the trip through time and space. This might be his last moment alive. Once he was discovered, Krang would likely order him killed instantly.

Should he have chosen differently? He wasn't sure, but it was too late to change his mind.


	10. Snapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to alter some things in chapter 7 when I realized Baxter actually lived in what looks like an old factory in A Thing About Rats. I mention this now because I had to reference some of those things again in this chapter. It was the only way I could think of for Baxter to have money after I realized he must have been broke at the start of the series.

Baxter slammed onto the cold floor of the Technodrome in the next moment. When he didn't immediately hear outraged cries from Shredder or Krang, he cautiously opened his eyes and pushed himself up. No one was watching him; they were all occupied with the arrival of the Turtles and Splinter. April, hiding behind a console, also hadn't been seen. Baxter decided to take a page from her book. He dove behind the console from the other side.

He tried not to think too hard about the fact that he had been right here when his horrific transformation had taken place, but it was impossible not to think of it. A shiver ran up his spine. The disintegration chamber was probably still here; Krang was far too much of a sadist to have taken it out. They would put him in it again if he was found. He knew it. And he didn't want to die now any more than he had then.

"You see, Krang?" Shredder crowed as Bebop smacked Raphael in the chest with a club. Raphael didn't even flinch. "They are completely under our control!"

"Yes. They certainly seem to be," Krang mused. The gleam in his eye said that he was far more pleased than he would let on. "Then let's not waste any time, shall we? Get on with finishing off your old mentor and then we will de-mutate the Turtles."

Shredder actually seemed to frown as he looked to Splinter. "It's almost a pity that we can't have one final battle," he mused. "One that I would win, of course. It seems so anti-climatic to simply kill him."

"I know you like to have your fun," Krang grumped, "but that's what usually ruins our plans. You could fight him now, but would it really be much of a challenge when you would already know every move he would make?"

"No," Shredder relented. "You're right, Krang. I will end his life now."

Baxter froze in terror. He knew this was the moment that he needed to do something, but it was almost impossible to make himself move. He didn't want to die, or end up suffering another fate worse than death, and yet, could he really just cower here and watch them destroy someone who had actually extended kindness and trust to him?

The old him, the honest him, never would have. But he had seen and done so much since then and had become a completely different, dishonest person. He still wasn't sure what kind of a person he was now. A self-serving coward seemed the most likely answer.

Did that mean that his vow to Raphael had been all talk, just as Raphael had thought? Did it mean he would end up letting all of the Turtles and Splinter down, even after their discussion that morning? Could he even do much to help them anyway?

April didn't have the same debate pounding through her veins. She ran out in a blaze of fury. "You won't hurt Splinter as long as I'm around!"

Everyone looked up with a collective start. "April O'Neil?!" Shredder roared. "How did she get here?! Dr. Stockman . . . !"

"Don't blame me for your oversight," Barney snarled. "Your precious mutants should have detected her."

"I knew you shouldn't have wasted time making those headbands to make them immune from the mesmerizer," Shredder shot back. "It would have been better to have just let them stay mind-controlled, for all the use they are!"

That actually made Baxter angry. Or maybe it was that plus the fact that Bebop and Rocksteady were too stupid to realize how they were constantly being used and not cared about. Baxter had scarcely put up with it at all, but Bebop and Rocksteady had endured it for years and quite happily would keep on enduring it because of their misplaced devotion to their boss.

But Baxter had very little intention of coming forward to defend the likes of them, especially if he wasn't brave enough to help Splinter. He still couldn't bring himself to leave the shelter of the console, not until he further saw how things would play out without his interference. Really, he wanted to believe that the Turtles and Splinter could break the mind-control all on their own. If anyone could, it would be them. Still, he could cite many times when they had needed a little help in their battles. And maybe April wouldn't be enough to do it this time.

"Nevermind, nevermind!" Krang exclaimed, waving his little arms. "Don't argue about your idiot mutants. Stop her!" He pointed to where April was running at the mesmerizer in the hopes of knocking it down and breaking it.

"Tell them to do it," Shredder said to Barney, indicating the nearest Turtles.

"Stop that woman," Barney commanded.

Instantly, Leonardo and Raphael went at April from both sides. While Leonardo distracted her, Raphael ran his sai through her sleeves and pinned her to the wall.

"Guys!" April cried in anguish. "You have to snap out of this! Leonardo, Raphael, it's me, April! Don't you recognize me?!"

They both gave her a blank look.

"Oooh, this is going to be so fun," Rocksteady exclaimed. "The Turtles are gonna thrash her!"

"Maybe you should have them get rid of Splinter, Boss," Bebop suggested.

"A very cruel and devious idea," Shredder smirked behind his mask. "But I want that pleasure for myself. The Turtles can murder Miss O'Neil, which is almost as cruel and devious. In fact, now I'm wondering if I should pit them against each other. The Turtles finishing each other off! What a delightful battle that would be to watch."

"Don't get carried away!" Krang snapped. "Stick to the plan, Shredder! De-mutate them! Don't leave them free to roam around and possibly have the chance to break the mind-control!"

"Ah, but they won't have that chance if Dr. Stockman's mesmerizer is everything he says it is," Shredder pointed out.

"And it is," Barney insisted, adjusting his glasses.

April tried to pull free of the weapons that were holding her fast to the wall. "You won't get away with this!" she screamed. "I won't let you!"

"You are hardly in a position to do anything, Miss O'Neil," Shredder said in delight. "This time there is absolutely nothing and no one to stop us. We will triumph!"

April's eyes burned. "I won't believe that!"

"Believe what you like. You can take it to your grave!" Looking to Barney, Shredder said, "I want to give the next order personally. Will they respond to me?"

"If I tell them to," Barney replied. Into the machine he said, "Turtles, obey Shredder's command."

Shredder turned to the Turtles. "Meet each other in battle in the next room," he ordered. "Leonardo and Raphael, and Donatello and Michelangelo. You will fight to the death!"

April stared in disbelieving shock and horror as the Turtles looked to each other with blank eyes. "You can't do it!" she wailed. "You're a team! You care about each other! You'd never forgive yourselves for this!"

This time the Turtles didn't even glance her way. Without another order, they weren't going to pay the least bit of attention to her.

Baxter was also staring in sickened alarm. There was no way around this, he realized with a sinking heart. He really seemed to be their only hope.

That was a frightening thought.

"Oh, but before you go, take care of Miss O'Neil for me, won't you?" Shredder leered. "See that she is no longer a problem."

Raphael pulled one sai free and held it over April's heart. But as he did, his eyes flickered and his hand trembled.

"What's going on?!" Krang cried. "Why is he hesitating? Dr. Stockman . . . !"

"It isn't my fault!" Barney snarled. "Bebop and Rocksteady would have killed each other had we not stopped their test in time!"

"You can't compare those idiots to skilled minds like the Turtles'," Krang retorted. "They have highly trained and honed willpower. When faced with a situation that they simply would not do, they will not do it, not even under mind-control!"

Shredder looked to Barney, his eyes sharp. "Well? Is that correct?"

"It depends," Barney admitted. "Normally that rule applies more to hypnosis. I suppose for especially strong minds, it could also apply to mind-control. But what some people don't know is how to get around mental barriers like that and trick them into doing it anyway."

Shredder folded his arms. "Show us."

Barney hesitated for only a brief moment before he spoke very quietly and carefully. "Raphael, listen to me. That is not April O'Neil. That is an imposter. You must kill her to save the real April. Do you understand me, Raphael?"

Something burned in Raphael's eyes and he brought the sai lower.

"No!" April screamed. "He's lying to you, Raphael! It's me! I came here to save you!"

Raphael trembled again, his free hand going to his head. "Can't . . . think," he choked out. "Everything's so messed-up. . . ."

"You don't have to think," Barney told him. "You only have to listen to me."

The situation hung in the air for an agonizing moment. Then, suddenly, it was Baxter's turn to run out into the scene. "Stop it, Barney!" he cried.

Barney spun around with a strange mixture of emotions written across his face. The most prominent was definitely hatred.

"I knew you shouldn't have left him alive!" Krang caterwauled.

"Get him!" Shredder roared.

Fighting to make a decision despite his altered state of consciousness, Raphael suddenly jerked his other sai free and turned, sending one of them directly at the mesmerizer. As the blade embedded inside, the machine sparked and shook and shorted out. The other Turtles and Splinter came to life.

"You're okay!" April cheered in delight.

"I . . . really don't know what just happened," Leonardo said in confusion.

"Yeah. Like, weren't we just in the Lair?" Michelangelo blinked.

"Let's worry about it later," Donatello exclaimed. "Look out!"

Bebop and Rocksteady were charging right at them, followed closely by Shredder.

"Alright, Turtles," Leonardo cried. "Let's do this. Turtles fight with honor!"

The two groups lunged and clashed. Alarmed, Krang stumbled back to be out of the line of fire. "No, no, no!" he screamed. "Not in here! You'll damage all the controls!"

Several keyboards were soon sparking in response to Krang's fears. A screen shorted out and burst, glass particles flying in all directions. The wall gained several new holes as the battle raged. Shredder's retro-mutagen ray gun clattered to the floor.

Barney was also trying to stay out of the fray. But he wasn't expecting the sight of Baxter dashing forward, swiping the retro-mutagen ray gun, and running for the nearest corridor. The hatred in Barney's heart spilled over and he gave chase, pulling a crowbar off the nearest console as he ran.

"This time, Brother, you've gone too far," he snarled. "I let you live before and this is how you repay me?"

"Do you really want to be an accessory to several murders?" Baxter exclaimed over his shoulder.

"You didn't seem to have any problem with the same thing in the past," Barney sneered. "You self-righteous hypocrite!"

"I only ever did that after I was pushed over the edge of sanity," Baxter said. "I know that now. You know as well as I do that I wanted to be honest!"

"I know that you've always been in my way!" Barney screamed. "You were always the one everyone noticed! At high school, at college, at local events . . . ! Even though you hadn't successfully invented anything that was patented, everyone knew you! You were able to make a name for yourself based around your degree! People were so impressed by your doctorate that they didn't care if you weren't an inventor! But if I ever tried to do the same thing, or to point out that I was a successful inventor, everyone told me that I was trying to be you! That was the last thing I wanted to be!"

With every rage-charged sentence, he swung the crowbar again. Although normally clumsy, this time Baxter seemed to be on high alert. From their shadows on the wall, he could see when Barney was lashing out again and he managed to swerve or duck each time.

"You're right that I played up my degree," Baxter shot back. "What else did I have to fall back on?! I couldn't invent anything that anybody wanted. I couldn't get a decent job! I didn't even have a real home. I was living in a factory! If I could escape reality for a few hours every now and then and pretend that I was important by making insignificant appearances at social gatherings, why wouldn't I do it?"

Barney was unmoved. "Excuses, excuses! What I wouldn't have given to have had that recognition! Instead, you always inadvertently took everything away from me. I had to fight and fight for anything that was truly my own."

"I never tried to hurt you!" Baxter snapped.

"I realize that. But I'm fed up with you all the same!" Barney leaped forward, striking downward with the crowbar, and Baxter barely managed to drop and roll in time. Then he stumbled up, frantic to get away as he crashed into the wall and practically flew down the corridor. If Barney could see his eyes, they were filled with unbridled terror. Barney had snapped, just as Baxter had feared might happen.

Barney stuck right with Baxter, continuing his hateful spiel while they ran. "I had an educational television series for a short while, but it was cancelled. They said it was because it wasn't as 'fun' as another science program that had run for years, but I always wondered if it was really because I wasn't you.

"I worked for anyone who would hire me. Most of the time I had to deal with being told that they really wanted you! I wanted to refuse them for that, but I needed the money so I didn't dare.

"I got sent to prison for working for one of those people. Do you know what prison is like, Brother Dear?! To be trapped in a tiny cell with someone who has less brains than a caveman when you're one of the most brilliant minds the world has ever seen?"

"I've been in prison plenty of times!" Baxter shot back. "Maybe not the kind with physical bars, but every bit as terrible. And I do know what it's like to be trapped in an insane asylum when you're not even insane yet, and to have no one to talk to who'll believe your outrageous claims except some lunatic who thinks he's Napoleon Bonaparte!" He ducked another swing of the crowbar. "You left me in that state, Barney! I begged and I pleaded for you to do something to get me out of there, and you wouldn't! You were so eager to have me out of your life that you were willing to have me put away for something I didn't even do!"

"How did I know whether or not you'd unleashed those stupid Mousers all over the city?" Barney snapped. "It sounded just like you, to not think about all the people who could be hurt or killed if they just munched their way through Manhattan!"

"It sounds more like you," Baxter said bitterly, his voice tinged with hurt. He ducked under a half-descended ceiling door into another room. "I thought about it. I knew that if they were controlled properly, no one would have to be harmed. I told Shredder all about how to operate them. I was foolish and idiotic and I trusted him! I had no idea what he really wanted or that he was setting me up for the fall!"

"Oh yes, and so we come to Shredder." Barney chased him into the new room. "Now I finally found someone who wants me and not you, and you're deliberately trying to take that away from me! Well, Brother, that's the last straw. I've had enough! I hate you! I _hate_ you!"

Baxter was moving a bit slower by now, both from tiring of the long chase and from the disorientation of ducking under the strange door. Barney wasn't as disoriented. It didn't take much for him to draw close enough again to reach out and swing the crowbar. This time Baxter wasn't quick enough to dodge. It hit its mark and he froze for a split-second before collapsing to the floor. The gun clattered out of his hand.

The crowbar also hit the floor, falling from Barney's now-shaking hand. The anger had abruptly passed at the realization of his actions. Now he was in horrified disbelief. He had put up with what he felt were the injustices against him for so many years, throwing temper tantrums that expressed his inner rage and hinted at his demons. Today he had felt pushed into actually acting on those feelings. And had he done something irreparable? It was one thing to talk about his brother ending up dead for his interference in this scheme. It was quite another to actually try to go through with it.

The memory of a horrible day in their childhood flashed back to him. He had felt even then that Baxter was always the favored one. Something Baxter had done that day had spiked Barney's outrage and he had chased Baxter all over the woods around their property, threatening to harm him, until finally Baxter had tripped over a tree root and gone down. When he hadn't immediately got up, Barney had become frightened, fearing his brother was dead and he would be blamed. Not knowing what to do, he had stayed there, trying to rouse Baxter and pleading for him to not be dead.

Baxter had awakened after a few minutes, dazed and leery and even frightened of his brother. And, Barney recalled in chagrin, he hadn't displayed any open relief that Baxter was alright. He had just said something flippant about how angry their parents would be and asked if Baxter would tell them the truth. Baxter had said he wouldn't.

He had kept his word; he hadn't ever told. But even though things had never been very good between them, that had been the day when the actual rift had started. Baxter had always tried to avoid Barney after that. And, Barney realized sadly, he had liked it. It was so much easier to try to go his own way without Baxter always underfoot.

Their parents hadn't really noticed. They had just been relieved that the fighting had stopped. And so the family had grown up that way, quietly dysfunctional, until the two boys were men and had left to pursue their scientific dreams.

Today Barney had snapped again, just as he had back then, and this time when Baxter had fallen, it had been deliberately done at Barney's hands instead of the result of an inadvertent accident with something in his path. And this time, he probably wasn't going to get up.

"Oh Baxter," Barney whispered, "what have I done?"

He gathered up the gun before kneeling next to Baxter and taking his wrist, feeling for a pulse.

"Well?"

He turned with a start at the sound of Krang's voice. "Well what?" he retorted.

"Is he dead?!" Krang snapped.

This time Barney did not hesitate with his response. "Yes."

Krang started to smile. "Good. You truly are different from your brother. It's just like Cain and Abel. I never wanted to work with an Earth scientist, but I might still have use of you yet, even if the Turtles do get away."

"I knew you would," Barney smirked. He stood and stepped in front of Baxter's limp form. "I will dispose of him later. We should secure the Technodrome; that battle is getting ridiculous."

"Then let's go," Krang said abruptly. He turned, stomping down the hall. "We have to get to the control room."

Barney hesitated, looking back at Baxter once more. "Don't come back here, Brother," he whispered under his breath. "I just put both our lives on the line with my lie."

With that, he hastened after Krang.

He wasn't expecting April to run out in horror and shock right after they left. "Dr. Stockman!" She knelt down by Baxter's lifeless body, the outraged fury coursing through her veins.

Then Donatello was in the doorway, pushing the door upward so it wouldn't have to be ducked under. "We have to get out of here," he exclaimed. "The Technodrome is unstable from all the fighting and the portal likely won't be available for very long. I'm trying to get it open and it keeps flickering on and off."

If April really processed his words, she didn't acknowledge them. "Barney just murdered his brother!" she cried.

Donatello went stiff. "What?!"

"I saw Baxter take the retro-mutagen ray gun and run out of the room," April explained as Donatello hurried over. "Barney followed him, waving a crowbar! I couldn't get out of the room to follow them and see what happened next, but when I finally did and caught up, I heard Krang asking if Baxter was dead and making it obvious that Barney did it!"

Donatello's stomach rolled. "We'll have to take him with us right now," he said. "There's no time to see anything about him here." Quickly he bent down, scooping Baxter's body into his arms.

"I didn't even know he came after us until he jumped out to try to get Barney to stop mind-controlling all of you," April said as she and Donatello ran back towards the room with the portal. "He must have been hiding somewhere in the room."

"Whatever he was doing, he came through when we needed him," Donatello said quietly. "And he paid for it, just as he was probably afraid he would."

They got back in the other room, where Bebop, Rocksteady, and Shredder were sprawled and dazed on the floor and the portal was sparking and flickering as it threatened to fade out.

"We have to go, now!" Leonardo exclaimed. Then, noticing Baxter, he exclaimed, "What happened?!"

"Barney killed him, according to April," Donatello said grimly.

A collective _"What?!"_ came from the other three Turtles.

Splinter stepped forward, his expression grim. "We must go, as Leonardo has said. This is not the time or the place to deal with this tragedy."

April quietly nodded. "Let's go."

The Turtles and April leaped into the portal just as it fizzled and died behind them. The other end came out back in the old building, where they unceremoniously landed in a confused heap.

Splinter was the first to recover. He knelt on the cold floor and looked to the others. "Is everyone alright?"

"Everyone except Baxter," Donatello answered. He knelt as well and laid Baxter on the floor with his head resting against Donatello's lap. Of course, there was no movement.

"So he won't even get the chance to start over," Michelangelo said sadly.

"He did start," Splinter quietly responded. "And he proved that he truly had begun to change. His honest self was still present."

Raphael turned away, gripping his sai. "I never thought I'd owe anything to him," he muttered, his voice thickening. "I didn't even think we could depend on him in a crisis. And he sure took his sweet time doing anything. Why did it take him so long?"

"Fear, perhaps," said Splinter. "It took courage just to determine to involve himself before the trouble actually happened, but when it came time to actually make good on his words, he may not have been able to handle it."

"Just like I thought would happen," Raphael muttered.

"Only he did not allow himself to remain crippled by his fears," said Splinter. "He followed through on his vow."

"Just like I _didn't_ think would happen," Raphael conceded.

"What he did was very important," Leonardo said gravely. "He provided the necessary distraction so you could break free of Barney's mind-control and save all of us."

"I wonder why he took the retro-mutagen ray gun," Raphael said with a faint shrug.

"Probably just to get it away from the bad guys," Michelangelo spoke up.

"You don't think he was going to use it on all of you, do you, Raphael?" April exclaimed.

Raphael flinched. ". . . No. Not anymore. And that's weird to think about. He would have done it just a few days ago."

"When he was consumed by hatred and madness in his nightmarish transformation," said Splinter. He reached over to lift Baxter's limp wrist onto his chest. But then, instead of letting go, he paused and looked to Donatello and April. "Did you make certain he was dead?"

"No," April blinked in surprise. "Barney said he was dead. And then there wasn't any time to check because we had to hurry and go."

"Why, Sensei?" Donatello asked in confusion.

"His pulse is strong. He is alive." Splinter released his wrist.

That brought Raphael around with a start. "What?!" He stared, his eyes wide. "How could he be alive?! Was it an oversight?!"

"Barney could not have missed it," Splinter said gravely. "He would have checked for a pulse."

"Then . . ." April's eyes widened. But before she had a chance to finish her thought, Baxter groaned and stirred.

"Oh, what happened?" He raised a hand to his head. "I remember running away . . . oh." He opened his eyes and they were disillusioned and dark. "Barney tried to kill me."

"I do not know whether that was truly his intention or if he was reacting in temporary anger to your reappropriation of the retro-mutagen ray gun," Splinter said. "But he lied and told Krang you were dead."

"What?!" Baxter sprang upright and then cringed, falling backwards into Donatello's arms. "But . . . why . . ." He held a hand to the throbbing spot on his head. "Krang wouldn't have punished him if he had told the truth, not if Barney was trying to kill me. . . ."

"But Krang would have either finished the job himself or ordered Barney to do it," Splinter said. "It is obvious now that Barney lied in an attempt to save your life. And by so doing, he placed himself in grave danger."

"Oh wow," Michelangelo gasped in realization. "If they ever find out he lied . . . !"

"He'll be dead," Leonardo grimly finished.

"So we should feel bad for him?" Raphael frowned. "He hit his own brother in the head with a blunt instrument. Even if he wasn't trying to kill, he knew Baxter would get hurt. You can't pull any insanity card with him. Trying to correct his mistake and putting himself in danger for it is just about the kind of consequence he deserves."

"Perhaps you are right, Raphael," said Splinter. "But consider that if Shredder and Krang learn of his lie, they may very well also come after Baxter to finish what was started."

"Yeah," Michelangelo said, his tone hushed.

Baxter looked stricken. "I'll have to get out of New York, take on a whole new identity. I can't put Barney in danger by staying and risking Shredder finding out he lied. Maybe it was the consequence he deserved, but he actually was trying to help me. He could have told the truth and let Krang murder me if he was only concerned about himself." His voice took on a far-away tone as he went on, "I never would have thought he'd care about me that much. . . ." He trailed off, gazing into the distance.

"You should lay low for a while," Splinter agreed, "but you should not have to leave New York. Shredder knows nothing of your apartment. Move into it and try to quietly reestablish your normal life. We will invent a cover story for your and Barney's survival, should Shredder ever learn that you live."

Michelangelo nodded. "Like, maybe we could say that Donatello figured out how to bring you back from the dead, just like Dr. Frankenstein!"

Donatello cringed. "Or maybe we could just say that we got him to a hospital and the doctors were able to get him back even though he was clinically dead. That happens a lot these days, you know. No Dr. Frankenstein needed."

"Yeah . . . but the mad scientist stuff makes it a whole lot creepier," Michelangelo said.

Baxter grimaced. "Let's just stick with more conventional ideas." He looked worried again. "If they believe Barney can commit fratricide without batting an eye, who knows what they'll want him to do next! They'll believe he's capable of anything!"

"I fear you are right," Splinter frowned. "He is in grave danger whether or not they learn that he lied."

"So what can we do about that?" Raphael said in frustration. "He made his own choice to join up with those creeps."

"And he is obviously in over his head," Splinter replied. "He will most likely regret his decision to join them. He may already wish he hadn't. For now, there is likely little we can do. But we will try our best to monitor the situation and look for a way to help him leave their employ, if he so wishes."

"Maybe he could even help us while he's there," Michelangelo suggested. "Like, as a spy or something."

"He would never want to do that," Baxter objected. "And I wouldn't ask him."

"We will worry about that later," Splinter said. "Right now, you should be examined by a doctor and then rest. Your brother hit you hard enough to render you unconscious for several long moments."

April nodded. "You sure looked dead."

"But we're really glad you're not, Dude!" Michelangelo declared.

Baxter looked over at him. "You are?"

"We all are," Leonardo said firmly, and Donatello, Splinter, and April nodded in agreement.

Raphael looked trapped. Finally he sighed. "Oh, alright. I am too."

"He means it," Leonardo insisted.

"Yeah. You didn't hear him when we thought you'd bit the big one," Michelangelo added.

Raphael scowled. "Michelangelo . . ."

Baxter looked to each of them, humbled and astounded. They actually cared if he lived or died. They wanted him alive. He had never thought he would experience that, not even from his own brother. And in spite of Barney's anger, he had apparently shown that he felt the same way.

"Thank you," Baxter said quietly. "Thank you all."

"No," said Splinter. "Thank you for finding the courage to do something you didn't want to do."

"Well," Baxter said in some embarrassment, "Barney forced my hand."

"But you didn't have to do anything about it," April insisted. "You cared enough about your brother to not want him to ruin himself. And maybe you didn't want the Turtles and Splinter to get hurt either, after they've helped you."

"I didn't," Baxter admitted.

It was strange to think that he still had that much goodness left in him. Or that he cared about those who had helped to ruin his life. They hadn't had anything to do with his transformation, it was true. But they had helped convict him in the first place. The entire city had turned against him after the Mouser incident. Shredder had put his name on each one so that he would be blamed for whatever trouble they caused.

Of course, he hadn't realized that then. He had thought it was because Shredder was marketing his product, as he had said he was going to do. And he had thought that Shredder would come forward and help him when he was on trial because of the Mousers and undergoing psychiatric examinations for his claims about giant Turtles. Instead, he had been left to himself.

Barney had turned against him too, not wanting to be associated with someone considered so notorious and thought to be insane. That would have seriously damaged Barney's chances of becoming well-known for his own merits. That was what Barney had said when he had come to see Baxter in secret. He had stormed out ordering Baxter not to contact him again.

Baxter had spent many days and weeks in the insane asylum trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. Eventually he had decided that Shredder had not come to help him because he had told the Turtles about their partnership and the hideout. He had failed a trust, and naturally Shredder would not help him.

Barney was a different story. In spite of their rocky life together, Baxter had honestly thought Barney would help him. The worst blow in the entire mess had been Barney's refusal. He must have been delighted to have Baxter out of the way, but even that hadn't rocketed him to the fame he felt he deserved.

Years ago, he had grown his hair out in defiance, wanting to look as little like his respectable brother as possible. In the asylum, Baxter had allowed his hair to grow into the same style, perhaps out of defiance as well. They were brothers, and Barney couldn't just sweep it under the rug and forget about it. By now Baxter actually preferred his hair long. He had to wonder if Barney would change his hairstyle again to look different.

By the time Shredder had actually come to get Baxter out, it had been the darkest point in his life. He had fallen at Shredder's feet, calling him "Master" and saying he had failed. He had been so desperate to get out of the asylum after being told for months that he was insane and spending his days with people who thought they were Napoleon Bonaparte and George Washington. And he had felt bitter and hateful towards the Turtles, blaming them more than Shredder for his incarceration since they were supposedly the "good guys," yet they had left him to suffer. Helping Shredder go after them had sounded delightful in his state. Anything had sounded better than being stuck in there.

"Dr. Stockman?"

He started and looked to Splinter. Somehow during his thought process, they had all left the building and were now in the van, heading towards the heart of the city. He had known that in the back of his mind, but he had focused the most on what he was thinking.

"Are you alright?" Splinter asked.

"Yes," Baxter sighed. "I was just thinking. Barney called me a hypocrite when I tried to stop him from becoming an accessory to murder. I wonder if he was right."

"I don't follow," Michelangelo frowned.

"Well, you know that on several occasions I helped Shredder with plans that I knew could fatally harm you if they succeeded. And when I stole the Eye of Sarnoth, I did some of that on my own. It only happened all the more after my transformation. Even if I was out of my mind, that doesn't make it right."

"You sure seemed pretty out of it when you were chasing us with your economy-size Ratcatcher and cackling about giant talking Turtles," Michelangelo said. "Sure it doesn't make it right, but it's also not the same thing as just being sane and evil, like Shredder and Krang are."

Leonardo and Donatello nodded. "And anyway, now that's all in the past," Leonardo said.

"Wanting to stop your brother from making similar mistakes is not being a hypocrite," Splinter added. "It is showing that you learned from your experiences."

"And did I really?" Baxter wondered. "I still get angry when I think about you taking all of my belongings."

The Turtles looked at each other. "We really weren't fair to you on that first meeting," Leonardo admitted. "We were so new to going after criminals then and we never tried to get your side of the story. We just figured you were working for Shredder and that you knew all about him."

"But you'd just come from Splinter being hurt by Shredder," April objected. "You were protective and angry. Naturally you'd feel that keeping Splinter safe was the most important thing above worrying about a probable henchman's feelings."

"And that's pretty much what you said earlier, Leonardo," Raphael reminded.

"That doesn't make it right," Leonardo said, deliberately echoing Baxter's words.

Donatello nodded. "Baxter might have become our ally if we had been willing to listen to him back then."

"There are many sides to the story, just as I have taught you," Splinter said.

Raphael sighed, looking to Baxter. "I still get angry when I think about the things you did to us, both before and after your transformation." He folded his arms. "Maybe those things in our pasts will always be upsetting to us. But . . . maybe Michelangelo's right, that you're not the same guy who did all those things. And . . . maybe we've grown up some too. I'd like to think that we're better at listening to all sides of a story than we were back then. Or at least, maybe the others are. I've probably still got a long way to go."

". . . Wow, Raphael," Michelangelo said after a moment. "You actually admitted to your shortcomings? That's like, mondo unlike you."

"Hey, we spent a lot of this day being really unlike ourselves," Raphael muttered.

"Anyway," Leonardo interrupted, "we never really said it before, but we should say it now, even though it doesn't make up for the past. We're sorry, for everything we did that wasn't fair to you."

Baxter looked down. He had never thought anyone would apologize to him for anything. That was one more surprise for that day.

"I'm sorry too," he said. "Maybe I wasn't treated right, by anyone, but I made my own choices. Even if I was out of my mind, I don't want to use that as an excuse. I did things that I shouldn't have done, that I never would have dreamed of doing back in high school or college. When I look back at my life since then, I can see it became a complete disaster. But I have a chance to start fresh and I want to take it. I really don't want to be involved in your fight, but with Barney working for Shredder, it's my fight as well. I will do what I can to help you."

"Alright!" Michelangelo cheered.

"Thank you, Dr. Stockman," Splinter said sincerely. "And we will do our best to keep you safe from Shredder's wrath."

"Which we would have done anyway," Michelangelo was quick to add.

"I realize that now," Baxter said. "You're so much different than I believed you were."

"We could say the same about you," Leonardo said. "We thought you were just Shredder's right-hand man and as unapologetically evil as he is."

"I never would have thought you'd do anything decent," April agreed.

An uneasy look passed over Baxter's face. "I kidnapped you at least once, didn't I? And I have a faint memory that I did it again after I merged with the fly."

"You sure did," April nodded. "And the latter was one of those occasions when you tried to 'fatally harm' the Turtles!"

Baxter gave a weary groan. "I'm sorry. . . ."

April sighed. "At least it is all in the past, like Leonardo said. What you did today proves you deserve another chance."

"Hey, coming to think about it, how were you able to get into that bank yesterday without anybody making a big deal out of it?" Michelangelo blinked. "Isn't the insane asylum still looking for you?"

"I hope not," Baxter frowned. "While I was working for Shredder, I was able to move around town quite freely. I even managed to volunteer my services at that free pizza contest without any backlash from anyone."

"That's right," Leonardo said in surprise. "But why? Didn't they know about the Mouser incident and that you'd escaped from the asylum?"

"I don't know what they thought," Baxter said. "The Mouser incident was all over the news, but my escape apparently wasn't. Maybe by then most people had forgotten about me. And my parents might have stepped in to keep my escape quiet. They wouldn't have wanted any further tarnish on the family name, after all."

"Or perhaps they pointed out that the giant Turtle sightings were quite frequent and that therefore, you were not insane for talking about seeing them?" Splinter suggested.

"Possible, but unlikely," Baxter frowned. "They didn't do anything to help me before, just like Barney didn't."

"Back to the bank, didn't anyone ask where you'd been?" April wondered.

"Yes. I simply said I had been very ill and had been somewhere far away. It wasn't really inaccurate."

"No, it wasn't," Leonardo agreed.

"Anyway, though, even if I am not actively being sought, I'm probably still thought of as guilty for the Mouser disaster by the majority of the city," Baxter sighed. "If I'm remembered at all."

"I think by now most people realize it was Shredder, just like you tried to say," April said kindly.

"That's a nice thought, Miss O'Neil." Baxter looked weary. "But even if people know, it's too little, too late, just like how I wasn't released from the asylum even after they realized the giant Turtles were real."

"So what about your parents?" Michelangelo asked. "What are they like?"

"They care about reputation above all else," Baxter hmphed. "Both of their sons becoming scientists instead of high society playboys wasn't what they expected or wanted."

"So you don't want to contact them either?" Raphael did not look impressed. "What a happy, normal, American family."

"They never lifted a finger to help me," Baxter said bitterly. "The only thing they cared about was saving face when both Barney and I fell into wrong paths."

"I'm sorry," Donatello said in sobered chagrin. "That would be tough on anybody."

"But they must care on some level," Leonardo persisted. "All the money in those trust funds. . . ."

"So that we would stay away and not beg them for money," Baxter explained. "And even at that, we weren't allowed to touch the money until our circumstances became dire."

"I would call this dire," Raphael proclaimed. "One son in need of starting over, the other one trying to take over the world. . . ."

"Well, like I said, the rules have been relaxed now," Baxter said. "I have access to my money whenever I need it."

"And based on the condition of just coming back," Splinter mused. "Perhaps you should see your parents. It sounds as though they came to just want to see you safe."

"Maybe," Baxter said slowly. "I'll need some time to think about it. I don't know what I'll even tell them about where I was. Barney and I mutually agreed not to mention anything about my transformation to them. At least I had enough of my wits about me to realize that would have been a horrible idea. And how will I tell them what Barney's doing now, if they ask?"

Michelangelo winced. "Yeah, that sounds like a real sticky situation, Dude."

"But I am certain you will decide what to do," Splinter said.

"I really don't have the best track record for making decisions," Baxter frowned.

"No, but you made some good ones today," Leonardo said firmly.

Baxter tried to smile at that. Maybe he actually had. And maybe it was a sign of good things to come. At least, he could certainly hope it was. Even just hoping was more than he had done for a long time.


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue

Shredder paced the Technodrome, restless, angry. Standing nearby, Krang watched him in annoyance. Barney, appearing both annoyed and impatient, just folded his arms and watched.

"We failed!" Shredder snarled. "Even with this magnificent device that you said wouldn't fail, we still failed! You're not any better than your brother."

"Don't blame this on me!" Barney snapped. "If you hadn't wanted to play with the mind-control so much and for so long, it wouldn't have failed. The original plan was to immediately kill the rat and de-mutate the Turtles, not to have them kill women and then each other!"

"The woman shouldn't have been here!" Shredder spun around, his eyes flashing. "And she wouldn't have been, if you had done your job right!"

"My job was to invent the mesmerizer and the retro-mutagen ray gun," Barney said haughtily. "Your job was to make sure that your mutants did what they were supposed to, including to keep out all intruders!"

"Excuses!" Shredder boomed.

"Responsibility-dodging!" Barney shot back.

"All of this arguing is pointless!" Krang caterwauled.

"Well, whose fault do you think it was?" Shredder demanded. "As if I don't already know."

"Hmph. I'd be more inclined to blame you than Dr. Stockman," Krang sniffed, folding his tiny arms. "At least he recovered the retro-mutagen ray gun." He sneered. "And proved himself a cruel and calculating being in the process."

"Yes, about that." Shredder looked to Barney with accusing eyes again. "There wasn't any body when we went to get it."

"You saw that the Turtles took it with them," Barney retorted. "Surely you don't think I'm lying about Baxter being dead. Krang saw it too."

"I just find it hard to believe that you really went through with it after you wanted me to spare Baxter's life before," Shredder said.

"I told you I would do something about it if Baxter interfered with our plans," Barney insisted. "I did something."

"Yes, you certainly did," Krang chuckled.

Shredder scowled. "So you want Barney to stay?"

"I see no reason not to allow it, at least for now," Krang replied. "Do you have a problem with that, Shredder?"

"I just find it strange that you like this Stockman so much when you wouldn't even give the other one a chance," Shredder grunted.

"Baxter was pathetic, the sniveling idiot. I had no use for him. He tried to be evil and he really had no taste for it. Barney, on the other hand, now he has promise." Krang smiled.

Defeated, Shredder abandoned his protests. "I have to admit, your mesmerizer was working beautifully before Baxter got in the way," he growled. "Perhaps the retro-mutagen ray gun you built actually is indestructible." He glowered. "Unless the mesmerizer was 'indestructible' too."

"I didn't build it that way because for that kind of machine I didn't think there was a need," Barney said. "But I can assure you that the ray gun cannot be destroyed."

"You had better be right." Shredder's voice had a definite hint of warning. "I wouldn't put up with Baxter. I won't put up with you if anything similar starts happening."

Barney sneered. "It's interesting how you are so willing to keep Bebop and Rocksteady around when they fail you time and again, but anyone else who fails isn't worth your time. I would venture to say that you hate people but love mutants."

"I wouldn't say that," Shredder snapped. "It's just that mutants actually can be useful with their super-strength, even if they're virtually useless in other ways."

"And I can be useful with my brilliant mind, even if I am physically weak," Barney said.

"Barney does have a point," Krang smirked. "The funny thing about it, Shredder, is that you're a human and not a mutant."

"Oh, shut up," Shredder grumped. It was his own fault for bringing Barney into things, but it was clear to see now that it was going to be a decidedly awkward venture. Even though Krang had been initially skeptical, now he was all for Barney joining the team while Shredder wasn't sure he wanted it. And Krang was the boss. Shredder began to plot in his mind.

Barney just folded his arms and smirked at Shredder. As long as Krang liked him, he was safe. He was still sure he could make this work for him. Anyway, now he absolutely had to. Just like the gangsters with whom he had previously associated, these people were not likely to let anyone leave their employ alive. He had to remain in their good graces to ensure his survival. Hopefully they would never learn of how he had already deceived them.

_You were trying to help me at that, Brother. Help me again and stay away. Don't let them know you're alive._

At least . . . he _hoped_ Baxter was alive. He had been when Barney had checked his pulse. He certainly could have grown more seriously ill after the Turtles had taken him away, but Barney didn't want to believe that. He had lashed out in anger and rage and had instantly regretted it. He didn't want to be a murderer. He definitely didn't want to kill his own brother, even after everything that had made him so furious.

Would Baxter realize that, though? Maybe now Barney truly had made an enemy out of him. Baxter did not take abuse from anyone for very long, and after what Barney knew of his past, the truth now could very easily be that Baxter hated him as much as Barney had thought he hated Baxter. Barney probably deserved that, but still, he hated to think of the possibility that he might have set Baxter on another path of destruction. The whole episode with the crowbar had taken place over less than a couple of minutes, but how far-reaching would the consequences be?

"He's spacing out again," Shredder said in frustration. "He keeps doing that."

Barney snapped back to the present. "Did you want something?" he asked.

"Yes," Krang croaked. "I wanted to tell you to get to the unused laboratory here at the Technodrome and start planning your next invention."

"Of course," Barney said with a bow. "Just where is this laboratory?"

"Down that corridor and to the left," Krang replied, pointing with one arm. "It's a lab I haven't used in a while. There may be some old junk in there. Clear it out if you find it; I have no use for it."

"Very well. Thank you." Barney headed in that direction.

Soon he found the right door. He entered, switched on the light, and let the door close behind him. Then he just stopped and stared in awe. He had never used a laboratory this large. Certainly not all by himself. He had always dreamed of this, ever since he had been a child sharing a laboratory with Baxter in the room over the garage.

"I've hit the big time at last," he breathed. And in spite of all his regrets and reservations, that was still something that thrilled him.

"Baxter?"

He jumped a mile. "Who said that?" he demanded. "I am not Baxter!"

"I'm over here." The sound was coming from a box just to the side of a console. "And you certainly sound like Baxter."

"I'm Barney," was the scowled reply. He went over, peering into the box. "I don't see anything."

"I'm right here, on the top."

Finally Barney deduced that the sound was coming from what looked like a badly scorched computer motherboard. But of course, that could not be. Gingerly he lifted it up, staring at it in confusion and disbelief. "What is this? Some kind of transmitter?"

"I'm all that's left of an alien computer. Baxter was my friend. I've been wondering what happened to him."

Barney slumped back. Baxter's alien computer friend. Baxter had talked about it when he had come to see Barney during the dark days of his cross-fusion. From what Barney understood, the computer had been misguided but sincere in doing whatever it thought would help Baxter achieve his goals. It could possibly be Barney's ally in this situation. Barney had never shared Baxter's aversion to artificial intelligence. He liked the thought of having this computer side with him.

"Baxter is alright," he said quietly, hoping again that he was telling the truth. "He's human again."

"I'm glad," said the computer. "That was always what he wanted the most, along with his revenge. Did he get his revenge?"

"He had it several different times," Barney retorted. "Especially thanks to you."

"Why do you sound so much like Baxter?" the computer asked.

"I'm his brother." Barney frowned. "He never mentioned me?"

"He mentioned someone named Barney, but he was very confused and much of what he said didn't make sense."

Barney fell silent, pondering. "Baxter is alright," he said again, "but the people in this fortress believe he isn't. They think I murdered him. And I need you not to say anything that will let them know otherwise, if you should happen to meet them."

"I won't say anything that could endanger Baxter," the computer insisted. "I don't like the people here. They're the ones who hurt him in the first place." It paused. "But why do they think you murdered him?"

"Because I attacked him in a burst of anger," Barney confessed. "Then I had to cover up and say that I'd killed him to keep Krang from making sure he was dead. It was the only way I could save his life."

"Hmm. Humans are very strange. But if you really tried to help Baxter in the end, I will consider you my friend as well."

"Thanks. I think," Barney muttered. Even though he liked artificial intelligence, he found it strange to actually converse with it like this. He might end up telling this machine many things that he wouldn't tell any human. On the other hand, that would be foolish. Information could be taken from a machine the same as it could from a person.

But in any case, some part of him liked that he wouldn't be here alone . . . and that his companion was someone who had known and liked his brother. Maybe through it, he could come to understand Baxter better. Maybe he could even learn to like him.

"I need to get this laboratory fit to use," he said abruptly. "While I'm working, tell me about Baxter."

"If he's your brother, shouldn't you already know about him?" the computer said in some surprise. If a computer could sound surprised.

"We've never been close," Barney said. "I wonder now just how well I really did know him."

"Alright then," said the computer. "I will tell you about him."

****

The Turtles were feeling a mixture of emotions as they returned to the Lair that evening. On the one hand, they were triumphant and relieved that they had come through the experience safely and that Baxter was alright. On the other, it was a very sobering and disturbing thing to realize that they had all been mind-controlled.

"Imagine, being forced to hurt or even kill the people we care about without even having any knowledge of it!" Donatello said in horror.

"I didn't know what was happening until I was told to kill Leonardo and April," Raphael frowned.

"Same here," said Leonardo. "I heard Krang saying something about strong minds being able to override the mind-control. I'm sure glad Shredder's orders started to bring us around."

"But it might not have been enough without Baxter stopping Barney," Michelangelo pointed out.

Raphael nodded and looked away. "He really held all our futures in his hands. _I'm_ sure glad I was wrong about him staying a coward or being out for himself or whatever."

"Do you think he's really okay now?" Michelangelo wondered.

"The doctor thought he would be, if he rested," Donatello reminded.

"Hope he doesn't mind crashing here another day or two," Michelangelo mused.

"I think he'd rather be here than at the hospital," Leonardo said.

"Who wouldn't?" Raphael quipped.

"Not that we've ever been in a hospital to really know," said Donatello.

"Nah, but we've seen plenty of hospitals on TV," Raphael pointed out. "And it doesn't look like being in one is any picnic. Being strapped down to all those machines, terrible food . . ."

"Beautiful nurses to check in on you," Michelangelo added.

". . . Well, okay, maybe it's not all bad," Raphael conceded.

"I don't know if Baxter is even interested in romance, though," Michelangelo said. "He always kind of reminds me of the cliche about scientists really being married to their work."

"Could be," Raphael shrugged.

"Actually, aside from Irma, I don't think we know anyone who's that interested in romance," said Donatello.

"Which is just as well," said Leonardo.

"Yeah. We'd probably always be dragging April away from some date if she was into that instead of her career," said Michelangelo.

"And that would be decidedly awkward," said Raphael.

"Not to mention it'd probably make the guy hate us," Michelangelo said lazily. "Unless he was big on crime-fighting too."

"Of course, we already drag April away from her job all the time," Raphael remarked. "I can't imagine a boyfriend could hate us much more than Burne already does."

"But April always comes away with a gnarly story," Michelangelo said. "I bet Burne would wish we were back if we were gone."

"Now that would be something to see," Raphael remarked. "It might almost be worth it to stay away for a while on purpose if it would get that kind of reaction out of Burne."

"You are thinking of things that are only vague possibilities in the future," came Splinter's sudden voice. "And hopefully you will not be 'staying away,' whether or not you give your permission. You are still crime-fighters who are badly needed in this city."

"Yeah, I guess," Raphael sighed. "Not that we're appreciated by ninety-nine percent of the population. And not that we did a good job of crime-fighting today."

"Are you kidding?" Michelangelo exclaimed. "We totally mopped the floor with Shredder and his goons!"

"Oh, sure. After we almost mopped the floor with each other," Raphael retorted.

"But you did not," Splinter replied as he advanced into the room. "That is the most important thing to remember. Wallowing in the past and in what could have been will only lead to heartache and sorrow."

"We know you're right, Master Splinter," Leonardo sighed, "but it's kind of hard to just up and forget what happened today. Once we realized what we were about to do, it was awful."

"I know," Splinter said kindly. "It was not pleasant for me, either. Especially knowing that all of you could have perished."

"So how do you deal with it?" Raphael frowned.

"Focusing on what actually happened, instead of what did not. All of us owe our escape to Dr. Stockman. I told him as much just now."

"And it's sure strange to think about," Raphael proclaimed.

"But we're all grateful," Donatello spoke up. 

Suddenly realizing something, Leonardo asked, "How are you feeling, Master Splinter?"

"I am well," Splinter assured. "Unfortunately, it is not the first time I have been mind-controlled."

"That's true," Leonardo cringed.

"How's Baxter?" Donatello queried.

"He has been quiet since we returned home," Splinter said, "but there is much for him to think of. He seemed well, all things considered."

"I wonder what we're going to do about Barney," Michelangelo said.

"So does Baxter, I am sure," said Splinter. "We must bide our time and wait for Shredder's next move before we can do anything."

"Well, knowing Shred-Head, that could be any time soon," Raphael grunted.

"For now, let us hope that they will wait a while before striking again," Splinter said. "Dr. Stockman needs time to try to settle into a peaceful life after his experiences. To pile too much stress on him all at once could be disastrous to his recovery."

"No arguments there," said Raphael. "We could really use some downtime ourselves."

"Oh yeah," Michelangelo perked up. "I've got some new pizza recipes I wanna try."

"And I have some new inventions I'd like to build," Donatello said.

"Are you going to try to talk shop with Baxter?" Raphael wondered.

"I guess I might," Donatello admitted. "I never thought I'd want to, but since he's a scientist too, we could probably find a lot of common ground to cover. It might even be interesting to debate and disagree with him. I don't think I've ever had a really stimulating discussion with another scientist."

"That might be very good for both of you," said Splinter.

"And he'll want to move into his apartment soon," Leonardo said. "We could help him with his furniture, if he'd like."

"Teenage Mutant Interior Decorators?" Raphael said dryly. "I don't know, Leonardo. It just doesn't have the same ring."

"Well, there's no harm in asking if he'd like our help, at least," said Leonardo.

"Does April know yet?" Michelangelo wondered. "I mean about him moving in."

"I didn't tell her," said Raphael.

"There was so much going on, I doubt if anyone told her," Leonardo said. "But she probably won't mind now."

"And then there's still Irma to think about," Donatello reminded.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to see how that goes when it happens," Raphael said. "They're bound to meet sometime."

"In any case, they're both valuable allies now," Leonardo said. "And after everything that's happened, I think we can all agree that Baxter is also a friend, just as Irma is."

The other Turtles and Splinter were quick to echo their assent.

Back in the room he had been using, Baxter lay in the bed listening to the conversation taking place among his recent compatriots. It had been amazing enough when Splinter had told him that he had saved their lives. When they proclaimed him a friend, he was stunned. They really meant it. Over the course of their adventure, he had gone from being one of their antagonists to someone they trusted and cared about.

Part of him still felt it was too incredible to be true and that reality would soon set in and show that it really wasn't, just as it always had before. That was the cynical side, the side that he had grown and cultivated ever since he had been unfairly sent to the insane asylum. The other side, the old, idealistic side, said it was true and that he had never before tested and challenged himself as he had over the last several days. There was nothing to compare this to. Certainly nothing involving fair-weather friends. The Turtles were sincere and this would not fade away.

Then they started discussing pizza toppings and he tuned them out once again to focus on other matters.

He was definitely wondering again about Barney and thinking on his fright when he had been chased through the Technodrome by his outraged brother. He had flashed back to their childhood experience before Barney had. The terror he had felt as a young boy being threatened by someone he trusted had never fully left him. Instead it had become the basis for his initial growing apart from Barney.

Well, that and also Barney's lack of apparent happiness that Baxter had been alright. If Barney had been glad of it, he had said nothing, just as he had said nothing upon finding Baxter human again in that old house.

And yet Barney had to care, or he wouldn't have lied to Krang about Baxter being dead.

"You tried to murder me and then you tried to save me," Baxter said quietly to the room. "I don't know what to make of you, Barney."

He turned onto his side, gazing across the room. The same things could be said of him, he supposed, in relation to the Turtles. But they had been able to talk, to finally come to know each other through discussions and actions both. Perhaps actions were the most important, but sharing conversations was important too. He and Barney had never really had that. Their screaming at each other today was the first time in years that they had ever actually revealed their deepest-held feelings in full force. And with their current situations, it was unlikely that it would happen again any time in the near-future.

What of his plans to try to start a normal life? As he had told the Turtles, it could never really be "normal" after everything, but he still wanted to do what he could in between trying to get Barney away from Shredder. He would move into his apartment and perhaps try to become more fully acquainted with the latest in technology news. Before he started inventing anything new, he wanted to know what already existed on the market.

Splinter was right that his confidence in himself had been shaken. He had started to believe that he truly was a pathetic joke, as Barney and Shredder and countless strangers thought. But really, he knew that whatever faults he had, he was a good inventor. He was starting to anticipate creating something new and exciting.

The sudden craving for something sweet nearly sent him bolting out of the bed for the kitchen. Then, frowning, he laid back. He was going to ignore it. Splinter had felt he could overcome any lingering effects from the cross-mutation if he recognized them and didn't let them control him, and he would do it. It might take a while, but he would fight for his humanity. He was no longer Baxter the Fly, as he had long ago introduced himself when the Turtles had finally realized who he was in that form. He was Baxter Stockman, a human once again. And no matter what challenges came with this version of himself, he would accept them gladly. By now, he had started to feel that maybe there really would be happiness in his life as well as challenges.

It was a nice change.


End file.
